


nohr under your fingernails, hoshido under your toes, and nothing left to call your own

by postfixrevolution



Series: the path is yours to climb [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: (it's just a sleeping draught so cool your jets), Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Dreams/Nightmares, Emotional Confusion, F/M, Happy No-Shame November, Homesickness, Implied substance abuse, Internal Conflict, Introspection, One-sided/Unequal Relationship, POV Third Person Limited, Slow Burn Romance, Stylistically Lowercase, Vignettes, questionable hurt/comfort tactics, terrible abuse of figurative language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5281787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postfixrevolution/pseuds/postfixrevolution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"i'm a traitor at heart, choosing hoshido but missing nohr," she whispers shakily. "i don't deserve a side, but i want them both. why can't i have them both?"</i><br/> </p><p>or: homesickness, war, and an attempt at self-discovery. results may vary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. your lips are fire (let me burn my troubles away)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> late winter - start of autumn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be for No-Shame November, but I'm a bit late for that, so... shrugs. But hey; I wanted angst and pretentious, stylistic decapitalization, so fiGHT ME THERE'S STILL NO SHAME
> 
> Aaaand this actually was supposed to be a one parter, but it got a little out of hand, so it's now two parts, haha.
> 
> Unbeta-ed, unsurprisingly, and I hope you enjoy~!

winter, and a new home. a new country. a new _war_. 

nohr is miles behind her — worlds behind her — and an endless trail of hoof prints away. if she stares at the horizon, the war-worn tracks quickly disappear, distance and a fresh fall of snow apathetically erasing them from existence. she can feel the ties she once had to the country growing cold just like the earth between then, freezing under the white blanket that engulfs it, and she wonders how much colder that tie can grow before it shatters, turns to icy crystal shards in her hands. 

the time for regret has long since passed, the vindication of second guesses dying the moment she turned her back on nohr, set her eyes on hoshido. in the heat of battle, there was an indescribable tug in the very depth of her chest, pulling her toward the scarlets and alabasters of the hoshidan flag. she can still recall it faintly, the sensation of a larger part of herself trying to call her back, but now that she is here, the feeling is no longer easily pinpointed. it permeates her, seeps subtly into her every nerve, yet she can still feel a tugging in her chest, incessant and small. it leads her gaze west, toward the sunset and the fading trail of hoof prints. there are mountains in the distance, painfully strange as much as they are achingly familiar. the earthen giants were much larger from her bedroom window back in nohr, and she is so used to seeing them aflame with the colors of sunset that the sight of them silhouetted, shadowy and dark, sends a chill down her spine. 

they're the exact same mountains, yet the differences are innumerable. 

"what are you staring at?" a sudden voice asks. it's sharp, and she turns to see eyes of the same nature: sharp hazel eyes narrowing at her. crimson ones blink right back. 

"nothing, i guess," she lies, shrugging a listless shrug. takumi stares at her for a second, quick eyes and a sharp gaze, and kamui doesn't know whether she should flinch back or let the piercing color of his eyes hold her in a trance for a moment longer; she could stare at his eyes until everything turned shades of golden amber and her head started to spin. she doesn't though, just stays quiet and blinks. 

"don't get too distracted," he snaps eventually, turning his nose up at her. it's a prim gesture, one befitting of royalty yet oddly unfitting of takumi, and kamui's stomach twinges at the sight. leo used to do that all the time, too, the action more congruous to his elegant demeanor more than it could ever be to this grey haired boy's before her. 

"i'll try," she tells him absently. he doesn't criticize her vagueness, but he doesn't acknowledge it. he just walks off, in the direction of the rising stars and his tent. she walks the opposite way, toward the dying sun and nohr. 

so absent is her stride that she doesn't notice sakura until she bumps into her. kamui is jarred from her thoughts with a flinch. they were thoughts of nohr, of camilla's rose gardens and elise's party dresses and how their shade of red matched eerily to that of sakura's hair. sakura is staring at her now, carmine eyes soft and shining with worry. 

"is there something you needed, nee-san?" the small girl asks. kamui manages a smile. 

"no, not really," she tells the younger girl. 

"are you sure? i'd love to help," she offers again. a shy smile pulls up at her lips, warm and bright despite its lack of size, and kamui feels her heart melt and freeze over at the same time, mind stuck somewhere between sakura's amaranth hair and bright roseate eyes that creased and twinkled whenever they smiled. 

"i'm fine, really," kamui insists. she isn't, but she smiles and chuckles hollowly as she waives the girl's offers off. "if anything, i suppose i'd just rather be alone." 

she pretends not to see the way sakura's smile falls at her words, and ignores the sudden ache in her chest at the saddening sight. 

"oh," sakura says smally. "i... i see." a fake smile, just like the fake one on her own face, and the small girl nods firmly. "i'll just leave you be then, nee-san. if you ever need help, i'm here." 

kamui's "of course," is spoken to empty air. 

* * *

"you've been avoiding me," she says. he says. they say it simultaneously, and somehow that takes the edge off the words almost instantaneously. the two ex-nohrians stare at each other for a long moment, and then they fall into broken giggles, laughter tearing at the seams over hidden anguish. badly hidden, in this case.

"so i guess it's both our faults," silas laughs quietly. "i'm sorry."

"me too," kamui replies to the tune of her fading laughter. "i shouldn't have avoided you so."

"then why _did_ you?" he blurts. then his eyes widen, a hand covering his mouth as he realizes his words. "no wait— you don't need to answer that. i'm sorry."

"stop apologizing," she says instead. followed by a similar, "why did _you_?"

he eyes her for a moment — with a verdant gaze more green than the nohrian grass in camila's fairytale-worthy gardens during spring — before responding. but he responds, and that's what matters.

"i can't look at you without seeing nohr, kamui." he breathes out the confession like it is heavy and painful, left too long to fester in his lungs. he exhales it like he's wanted to say it for an eternity, and he's only now got the chance to. he sighs it like a broken apology, and it breaks kamui's heart.

"i...i'm sorry." it's all she can manage.

"don't be. it's stupid."

"it's _true_ ," she responds immediately. he looks up at her. "i don't blame you. you remind me of nohr, too, you know? everything about you screams it."

verdant eyes on her again, wide eyed and speechless. kamui gazes levelly back, and she can feel her chest ache for nohr, for silas, for _nohr_. then, he blinks. the awe is gone and it feels like a spell is breaking.

"we're both a mess, aren't we?" he laughs ruefully, tiredly. "willfully leaving nohr and now wanting nothing but?"

a sharp laugh tumbles past kamui's own lips.

"at least we're a mess together," she offers.

"and yet, we're still a mess."

a shrug. a pause. kamui draws in a long, measured breath.

"i miss nohr, silas," she confesses whisperingly. "it hurts how much i miss it."

a heavy, shaky sigh. kamui snakes her arms around herself, feeling suddenly cold and inexplicably alone.

"me too."

* * *

"this is a dream." those are the first words that leave kamui's mouth when her eyes meet amethyst ones. the phantom image of leo flickers, caught between a frown and a smirk. sad to be caught, yet proud of her perception. so eerily like leo.

"and is that necessarily a bad thing?" the phantom asks. leo asks. it sounds just like him. her stomach twists.

"how could it not be?" she shoots back, crossing her arms warily. she keeps her body language closed, their distance safe. he just stands there with his hands in his pockets.

"i'm not your enemy, kamui."

"except you _are!_ " she exclaims, uncrossing her arms and gesturing frantically. " _we_ are. we were enemies from the moment nohr refused to back down from this war, leo. i'm supposed to want your blood on this floor, and you're supposed to want mine."

"but would you truly kill me?" he presses, in true leo form.

"i'm supposed to want your blood on this floor," she repeats hollowly, quietly. her fingers curl into fists at her side, fingernails stingingly sharp against the soft flesh of her palms.

"and i, yours," he concedes diplomatically. "would you give it if i asked?"

a small pause, and kamui worries at her bottom lip. this is only just a dream, she reasons. what she says won't even matter tomorrow. the thought empowers her to speak, and speak she does.

"i used to think being killed by you would be the most painful thing that could happen, but also that it would be the only thing i wanted," she whispers.

"used to?" he echoes.

"now, i don't know anymore."

"...i see."

"you don't though. even i don't. there's nothing there _to_ see."

silence, and then soft footsteps. it occurs to her that they are in some meld between the nohr castle and the hoshido palace. marble tiling gives way to bamboo floors halfway across the room. under her bare feet is the cold sting of stone. when she looks up, the phantom leo is standing right before her. everything about him is exactly the same as she remembers of the original.

"they would accept you, you know? if you were to return. even him. the real leo."

"what do you know of the real leo?" she mutters bitterly. "you're a figment of my imagination. a doubt i shouldn't have."

"i _am_ the real leo," he responds confidently. a part of her wants to throw up, but she can't quite place why.

"you're not," kamui hisses. "you never can be."

"and yet, i'm as close as you'll get anymore," he says simply. it's concise, candid, and as sharp as a sword through her chest. the words are true — painfully, painfully true — and kamui blinks hard as she considers them, tears beginning to sear behind her eyes.

"i'm a traitor at heart, choosing hoshido but missing nohr," she whispers shakily. "i don't deserve a side, but i want them both. why can't i have them both, leo?"

he doesn't respond. maybe it's because he's a projection of her own thoughts and she doesn't even know the answer. or maybe he's eerily more like leo than she'd thought, choosing to cling to obscurity and quiet rather than tell everything. but, when airy arms wrap around her, phantom lips pressing against her hairline, the thoughts all vanish and her tears fall over.

it's too long to be a kiss, and yet it is too tender to be anything but.

it's also a lie. a dream. kamui sobs into the nonexistent warmth of this apparition's chest, and wakes up with sticky streaks running down her cheeks.

* * *

"your form is off today," takumi accuses. she's tired, exhausted, and begrudgingly unable to argue with his accusations. he's right, they both know it, and kamui throws her wooden sword onto the table moodily, falling backward onto a bench.

"so it is," she mutters darkly. "i suggest finding a new sparring partner then."

"what's the point of that," he scoffs, "if it means you'll continue producing mediocre results? this isn't just for me, it's for the army. for everyone."

she sighs, swiping sweat off her brow. there is a painful heaviness in her limbs caused by sleep deprivation, and she can't shake it. even now, kamui wants nothing but to fall to the ground if it means she'll get to sleep. and without dreams, too. she can only try to convince a phantom elise that she _belongs_ to hoshido for so long, or reason with a distraught pseudo-camila, a silently distressed figure of xander, or the argumentative ghost of leo. even having left nohr as she did, nohr still clings to her like a greedy fog, unwilling to let her go, and it's finally beginning to take its toll.

"we're going back out," takumi decides. "get up."

a part of her wants to tell him no, to completely ignore the boy's words and just sit there — until she sleeps or until she _rots_ — but she doesn't. their situation is bad enough as it is, his perception of her skewed by suspicion, her every thought stained by guilt because she gives her all to hoshido, but if she misses nohr, who is to say his suspicion isn't wrong? a traitor at heart, she repeats to herself. greedy and foolish and fighting a war just to end it, not to win.

kamui stands up, steeling herself for another round of sparring drills. if she can't stop the swirling, sickening, swimming thoughts of nohr, the least she can do is give her life to hoshido. and it is with this grave thought — and a mess of others — that she stands up, feels faint, and passes out. she doesn't feel her head hit the ground, and wonders briefly if she was already unconscious at that point, or if takumi had caught her.

at the very least, she doesn't dream.

* * *

kamui blinks bleary eyes open to a fuzzy figure in red, and wonders when she had returned to nohr and what camila's guard was doing with her in place of her own retainers. then, clarity seeps into her eyes and hinoka comes into focus, concerned burgundy eyes fixed on her. there is no luna, just like there is no camilla and no nohr. hinoka's eyes widen, flooding with relief, and she throws her arms around kamui.

"hinoka-nee," she says. "is something wrong?"

"you had us all so worried," the girl mutters against her neck, squeezing her even tighter. when she pulls back, there is a small smile on her lips. "thank goodness you're alright. what happened? that idiot brother of ours didn't push you too hard, did he?"

kamui shakes her head, biting back the embittered impulse to say yes. "it wasn't his fault. i haven't been sleeping well."

hinoka's face falls. she fixes her with sad eyes — bleeding red, blinking red, burgundy red — and sighs. the older girl tenderly brushes stray hairs out of kamui's eyes, tracing the dark circles under crimson eyes with the calloused pads of her thumbs.

"there's nothing you need to prove to us," she says quietly. "you needn't work any harder than the rest of us to make us believe your heart lies with hoshido."

a sigh of her own, and kamui wraps slim fingers around hinoka's wrists, tugging the girl's fingers away from her face. her hands are small, just like her stature, but warm and firm. they are a warrior's hands, just like their owner is a warrior's warrior.

"i know," she replies listlessly, eyes trained downward at their contrasting hands. hinoka's are a rich, golden hue, tanned by the hoshidan sun; her own look like snow — pale, delicate, and frigid.

"will you say it like you mean it?" hinoka asks, pulling her hands free and putting them back in her lap. kamui stares at her own hands, at her palms and the mess of lines, creases, scars that cover it. her eyes trace the shaky m's emblazoned on her skin by the creases that cover them, remembers a low, smooth voice and memento mori. leo's voice feels fuzzy at the edges in her head, but it is still there, so painfully present.

" _remember that you can die_ ," she whispers to herself, repeating age old words spoken to her some countless eternities ago.

"what was that?" hinoka asks. kamui looks up at her. her eyebrows are drawn in confusion, her thin lips slouching into a frown.

"i would die for hoshido," she tells hinoka resolutely. burgundy eyes blink, looking at her curiously. another blink, and the brief curiosity is gone.

"let's hope none of us do."

kamui doesn't say that they all will, eventually. instead, she curls her fingers into her palms, covers up the m's carved into her skin, and banishes the thought of amethyst eyes, and whether or not the color that flecked them was onyx or maroon.

* * *

kamui stares up at the skies, crystal clear even in the middle of spring. not a single raincloud mars the spotless expanse, and the thought brings her back to nohr. it's probably raining there, sheets upon sheets of cool water to drown the dusty paths between the castle greenhouses, and camila would complain about not being able to reach her gardens without getting dirty.

a part of her is glad she hasn't seen her ex-family in battle yet. a huge part, actually. she isn't ready for the betrayal in their eyes yet, the accusations on their lips and the distress etched across their features. the shocked faces of the nohrian soldiers she has seen thus far are bad enough, almost making her heart shake each time her eyes catch the onyx and violet of their nohrian crests. she feels a mix between cold-hearted and bleeding-hearted whenever she cuts one of those soldiers down, staunchly swinging her sword but repeating childhood-learnt prayers in her head for each of their souls as she does so; the ancient nohrian comes easily to her, and kamui both fears and is relieved that she will never not believe in the lore she grew up with, even if it isn't her true home's.

she continues staring at the sky and swimming through her thoughts, unaware that she is spacing out until footsteps approach and a voice addresses her, jarring her from her reverie. when verdant eyes lock onto hers, kamui remembers gardens in spring before she remembers silas.

"can i join you?" he asks hopefully.

"of course," is her immediate response. he smiles a small smile and sits down on the grass beside her, shoulder pressed against hers. he's warm amidst the early spring chill, and kamui doesn't realize she was cold until he is leaning against her and she is soaking in his warmth.

"i heard you passed out the other day. are you alright?"

"better now," she shrugs. "i haven't been sleeping well, but it's better now."

"you've been dreaming of nohr, haven't you?"

she flinches. the reaction gives her away, so with a tired sigh, she nods.

"it's always xander or camilla, leo or elise. and it always ends with me waking up to tears or a haunting guilt. i can't explain how i belong to hoshido except that i do, and they never understand."

"they aren't real, you know? who's to say if the real them wouldn't understand?"

"and you don't think i tell myself that?!" she snaps, harsher than she had intended. silas doesn't fault her, just carefully grabs her shoulders so he can turn her toward him and meet her straight in the eye. kamui has a hard time meeting his, crimson gaze averted from his clear verdant one.

"i know you tell yourself that, kamui, i know," he tells her softly. his fingers, battle-worn and warm, find the curve of her chin, tilting her gaze up toward his. "but i want you to truly believe it, too."

"but what if i can't, silas?" she replies shakily. "i've been okay because i've been taking a sleeping draught, but what if they come back once i stop? what if i'm not strong enough to keep this up?"

"you are, though," silas responds resolutely. his eyes are so impossibly brilliant, so ineffably clear. "you're the strongest person i know, kamui. and if those phantom siblings of yours can't acknowledge that strength, both in your resolve and in your place with hoshido, then you can be damn sure they aren't real."

breathlessness. that is what hits her first. and then, kamui sucks in a tremulous breath, and throws her arms around silas, buries her face into his chest. tears don't fall, but her small frame shakes and shudders against his.

* * *

kamui sits in the empty barracks and swirls the milky lavender contents of her vial around restlessly, pondering whether or not she should take another dreamless sleeping draught tonight or give the potion a rest. part of her is scared that she won't be able to sleep without, doomed to another restless night of phantom pseudo-siblings and harrowing guilt. she knows she can't rely on this drought forever, that these phantoms are demons that she must overcome, but kamui can't find the strength needed to banish them. she's never felt so helpless, so small, and she wishes and wishes like a little girl that this war can end tomorrow — or tonight, or today — so long as it ends.

with a heavy sigh, kamui pops the stopper off of the small vial, tipping it backwards against her mouth. the bitter taste of just touches her lips when the vial is suddenly plucked from her hands, flyaway drips of the potion spilling across her cheek and a firm voice telling her, "i don't think so." crimson eyes fly up to meet hazel ones, and there is a scowl on his thin lips.

"give that back," she demands. he doesn't give it back. instead, he takes the rubber stopper from her fingers, too, sealing the bottle and dropping it into his pocket. kamui glares at him.

"sakura told me you've been taking that every night since you'd fainted," he says, and the statement sounds more like an accusation than anything. on one hand, kamui feels betrayed that sakura would mention her nightmares aloud to takumi. on the other, she isn't surprised. if anything, she's more surprised that it took him this long to squeeze the information from the girl. the thought makes kamui wonder if she _wanted_ for him to know when she whispered the words to sakura. she doesn't try to think on the question past that.

"and what if i have? i'm fine now, aren't i? no more fainting, failing. what right do you have to complain?" she sniffs, holding her palm out expectantly. he stares at it for a moment, at the m carved into its contours, and scoffs.

" _this_ ," he bites back, taking out the vial and shaking it, "is not you being fine." hazel eyes give the lavender liquid a disgusted look before shoving it back into his pockets. kamui watches it disappear with an air of wistfulness.

"who are you to decide what fine is?" she snaps, glaring crimson daggers at him. the glance off his skin, leaving him so frustratingly, perfectly unperturbed.

"no one," he responds simply, shrugging his willowy shoulders. "you miss it, don't you?" he follows up suddenly, turning intense hazel eyes toward her. she blinks, any precious annoyance deflating as she is taken aback by his sudden change of topic.

"miss what?" she breathes, crimson eyes regarding him cautiously. he meets their narrowed gaze levelly, eyes so unfairly clear and unfairly golden in the warm candlelight of the empty tent.

"nohr," he whispers.

her heart stops. his hazel eyes bore into hers, gaze tainted with a harrowing sense of omniscience, as if he is waiting patiently for a response that he already knows. kamui quickly averts her eyes, turning bodily away from the boy and wrapping her arms around herself. it's a self conscious movement, only her trying to shield herself from hazel eyes rather than the temperate midsummer air that oozes trough the tent's flap. her gaze traces patterns in the canvas as she rubs warm hands against her forearms.

"that's none of your business," she hisses, words icier than even the winter air when she first arrived in hoshido. she stands up jerkily, chair legs scraping roughly against the dirt floor. with one last glare at the boy, she stalks out of the tent.

the night air is pleasant against her bare arms, but she resolutely ignores it. when kamui walks briskly into the medical tent, sakura is there cleaning up for the night. the younger girl eyes her curiously, but not a word is exchanged as the white-haired girl rummages through the chests for another vial of draught. as she turns to leave, sakura blurts a quick, "nee-san, wait."

kamui stops cold, turning around to face the girl carefully. there is concern in her carmine eyes, innocent and pure. a small shred of guilt stabs at her stomach for barging in so taciturnly, and kamui offers the young girl her warmest smile. it feels hollow, but neither say a word on it.

"yes, sakura?"

"takumi-nii is worried about you. in fact, we all are, you know." she smiles reassuringly, a small grin by any means, but infinitely brighter than any kamui could ever offer. "family means that we're never weak in each other's eyes. if there's anything you need, you can ask us."

kamui blinks, mouth slack but not a word escaping.

"i'm done for the night," sakura announces. "good night, nee-san, and... please rely on us more, okay?" her eyes are filled with so much hopefulness that the least kamui can do is nod, dumbly and silently. the response seems to satisfy the red-haired girl, and she departs with a soft smile gracing her lips.

kamui walks numbly to her tent, not even feeling the wonderfully warm night air on her ams as she does so. she tips the draught into her mouth systematically, and when she lies down to sleep, nightmares don't find her.

but then, neither does sleep.

* * *

"kamui-nee, can i braid your hair?" sakura asks one night during dinner. the request is out-of-the-blue, so innocuous and innocent and earnest that kamui almost looks up and says, _of course you can, elise_. the only thing that stops her is: when she looks up, there is cherry-petal hair hair and carmine eyes, and kamui feels her stomach twist.

she bolts up suddenly, knees knocking painfully against the low table her and her siblings are seated at. the pain doesn't register, not when the twist of her stomach brings with it a sudden dizziness and a burning behind her eyes. kamui inhales shakily, that one tremulous breath giving rise to another, and she can feel herself start to hyperventilate, feel her lungs grow tighter, as if they were shrinking by the second in her aching chest.

she can't _breathe_.

"kamui?" hinoka asks concernedly.

"is something wrong?" ryouma presses, worried chestnut eyes on her. they are not the only eyes on her. burgundy regards her with nothing but concern. carmine stares at her with quivering irises and the threat of confusion, of tears. hazel watches her, sharp and eerily omniscient, as if they were staring into her and at the tumultuous mess of thoughts clouding her head.

"nee-san, are you okay?" sakura asks timidly. kamui fists her hands into the fabric of her leggings, trying desperately to overcome the wave of dizziness that drowns her, the sudden sensation of wanting to keel over, throw up.

_she's not okay._

she feels like a strange, stupid beast on display, too many uncomprehending eyes on her and a lame muteness sealing her throat against their musings. for months, she has tried making hoshido her home, viciously banishing thoughts of nohr whenever they surfaced, but never has she been more _nohr_ than she is now, sticking out like a sore thumb, an ugly streak of black against a scarlet and alabaster background.

_she's not okay._

and she runs. out of the tent and away from their staring eyes.

* * *

kamui runs out of the tent with tears brimming over her eyelashes, tears branding tracks down her cheeks and etching lines into her skin. she runs and runs, blindly and in the dark, until she's just outside camp, alone in a silvery, moonlight-lit field. kamui almost trips over him there, a lone figure in black lying in the midst of the grass, except she doesn't.

she stops right before him, the tips of her bare toes brushing the worn fabric of his sleeves. he looks up at her with verdant eyes painted crystal chrysolite in the light of the moon, and she blinks back at him, tear-glazed crimson eyes and tear-stained lashes.

"are you crying?" silas asks almost immediately. he sits up, stares at her with an all-consuming concern, and all she can do is blankly stare. his features are dramatized by the falling moonlight, shadow and light fighting for dominance over each curve and valley of his face. kamui blinks again, the feeling of searingly hot tears tracing lines down her face registering faraway in the back of her mind. "kamui?" he speaks softly, a frown pulling down at his lips. she flinches slightly at that, the feeling of a shattered silence almost tangible.

"no, i'm f-fine," she hiccups, the stifled sob sounding pathetic even to her own ears. she watches through a blurry curtain of tears as his eyes widen at the tremor of her voice, as he lifts himself up to stand before her, only to have her knees give out as she collapses against him, another sad sob bursting past her parted lips.

silas catches her carefully, steady hands against her biceps, warm fingers pressed against her skin. she shivers for the first time, finally remembering the early autumn chill in the air. they kneel there awkwardly, his arms tentatively holding her steady as she buries herself into his chest, sobs silently.

"what happened?" he whispers, leaning back to sit on the ground. she follows him, winding her spindly arms around his waist and keeping herself close to his chest. he doesn't pull her away, just lets the two of them sit there, awkwardly embracing in the middle of the field. "tell me what's wrong."

she tightens her arms around him, exhaling shakily against his chest.

"i'm a terrible person, silas," she replies hollowly, so quiet that he almost misses it completely. he doesn't though, and the words shake him to the very core.

"no," he breathes, shaking his head vehemently. "no, kamui, you're anything _but_ that." he cups her cheek, tilting her head up so he can look her in the eye. hers are glazed over with tears, the silvery moonlight tinting her crimson irises a softer carmine. they tremble and quiver, meeting his uncertainly, and he offers her his best smile — small, but sincere. "you're inarguably and irrevocably the best person i know," he confesses softly.

and kamui stares. she stares and stares up at him, crimson eyes wide and parted lips hanging aimlessly open. the tears have since dried from her eyes, leaving only shock and speechlessness in their wake. silas meets her gaze blink for blink, gently pushing loose strands of hair away from her eyes with the pad of his thumb. when her shock wears away, there is only awe, and she stares at him as if he were some mythical deity, some unearthly creature. it's a gaze teeming with awe, and somehow, they're both breathless.

and then she kisses him. it's almost desperate in its intensity, but it's also a great sforzando, the culmination of a long-building crescendo into one explosive, unavoidable kiss. kamui winds her arms around his neck, tugs him closer and closer, and silas tries his best to keep up, careful hands on her waist and an eager, almost innocent, kiss back.

when kamui pulls back, panting warm breaths against the stretch of his lips, her crimson eyes stay affixed on him unblinkingly, almost as if she were in a trance. her fingers cup the side of his face gently, thumb tracing the curve of his cheek as she stares.

" _you taste like nohr_ ," she whispers tremulously. her breath rattles in her throat, shaking unsteadily past her teeth, and there's nothing that can stop the strangled sob that immediately bursts through her lips. kamui shatters in his arms, and all he can do is hold her carefully. she clings to him like a lifeline.

"i'm sorry, kamui," he tells her eventually. she doesn't respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me update faster; this is scientifically proven, I swear.


	2. cover your ears darling (all my words feel like lies)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> early autumn - midwinter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part got out of hand again, so... now there's going to be a total of three chapters, haha. But the final part will be posted no matter how long it is, so don't worry, I won't drag this out for _too_ long!
> 
> ALSO! To be honest, when I asked for comments, I was just expecting something like "gg man you did some good write" buT THE COMMENTS I ACTUALLY GOT WERE BEYOND AMAZING AND SPURRED ME TO WRITE SO MUCH. I tried my best to express how thankful I am in each reply; you have no idea how much I screamed upon reading them or how many times I reread those comments for motivation. They give me _life_. I can't thank you guys enough.
> 
> Anyway, let's get this going, yeah? Unbeta-ed, as always, and hope you enjoy part 2~!

kamui hacks at the practice dummy with a haphazard brutality, movements messy and sluggish from exhaustion and fatigue. the dark shadows painted across the golden skin under her eyes do little to disguise the fact that she hasn't been sleeping. every heavy swing of the dulled practice sword is another testament to the tiredness that seeps past her skin and instills itself into her bones, threatening to shatter the exhausted limbs at any given instant. 

it's plain for any eye to see, etched into the expanse of her shadow-stained skin: the princess of hoshido is a mess. 

with a labored breath, kamui shouts as fiercely as she can, throwing her weight into a grand upward arc of the sword, her lithe muscles visibly tensing under the burden of the sword, and catching the practice dummy over the shoulder. the dulled blade glances right off her target, heavy blade following the fall of the dummy's bicep down toward the ground, and her momentum follows right after it. the white-haired girl is thrown forward into the dirt with a magnificent _thud_. 

when the maelstrom of dust clears, kamui lies on her side amidst the dirt and pebbles, small scrapes littering the bare skin of her arms. earth-covered winter-white hair is sprawled about her head like a messy halo, and in the center, delicate lashes blink wearily, crimson eyes fall in and out of focus. dust sticks to her and her sweat-soaked tunic like a second skin, and with a near-painful grit of her teeth, kamui embeds the tip of her sword in the ground and steels herself to stand up. 

and she does stand — shaky legs and aching arms, the feeling of autumn breeze in her hair — until those legs collapse under her. kamui prepares herself for another impact, another sting of pebbles digging past her tunic and into the flesh of her back, but it doesn't come. instead, there are hands on her shoulders, bony but warm, and a sense of steadiness she'd long forgotten. hazel eyes stare at her scrutinizingly, and crimson ones blink dizzily back. 

"takumi?" 

the hazel eyes blink, and kamui notices the furrowed brows, the scowl that rests below them. 

"you look horrible," he tells her, tugging her up to her feet. she feels vaguely like she is swaying without his hands on her shoulders, but the boy says nothing of it, so she pushes the thought aside. 

"it's nothing," she lies. "no more than expected during war." 

he doesn't say anything, sharp eyes scrutinizing her for an immeasurable moment before they are gone. takumi clucks his tongue and focusses on prying the sword hilt out of her hands, the tip out of the dirt it is sheathed in. kamui watches him absently; there is an indescribable grace to his movements, an intrinsic strength. he is steadiness like she has never known before, and the thought calms her, cools the ends of her frayed nerves and washes over the messy expanse of her mind. she watches him and feels her exhaustion hit her full force, buckling her knees in a numbing fatigue — different from the aching exertion of earlier. 

takumi catches her, wide hazel eyes and the sound of a sword clattering to the dirt, and kamui feels the tail end of a rueful laugh tumble from her lips. 

"maybe it's a li'l more than nothing," she slurs. "but only a little. 'm not that tired. a quick breather 'nd i'll... be fine." 

she stumbles against him, eyes drifting shut, and she might have fallen asleep there, had he not suddenly shifted, thrown her up over his shoulder. her crimson eyes fly open, head spinning with the sudden vertigo of being upside down, and her first instinct is to scream. 

"p-put me down!" she shrieks, pounding weakly on his back. "i said i was fine!" 

"fine, my ass," he scoffs lowly, but she just barely catches it. "you need sleep, and you're going to get it if i have to stand watch until you do." 

her protestations continue to barrage deaf ears, and by the time they reach her treehouse, she's heaving breaths of exhaustion from her pathetic attempts to get the stubborn boy's attention. unsurprisingly similar to how he had picked her up, takumi all but tosses her onto her mattress, throwing the blanket unceremoniously over her face. kamui bats the fabric away, does her best to glare up at him, but the action is brushed off just as easily as her earlier protests. with an air of finality, takumi sits with his legs folded on the ground before her bed and closes his eyes. he's meditating, she realizes, and there's no hope of urging him to leave. she sighs, and decides to wait. 

takumi doesn't say a word, kamui doesn't know what to say, and the silence is palpably uncomfortable. when the white-haired girl shifts, moving herself to sit up, he utters a curt, "no," and she deflates, falling back to her bed with a huffy sigh. under the warmth of her sheets, she can feel fatigue start to pull at her senses, but her mind battles furiously against it, the threat of nightmares goading her to stay awake. her heavy eyelids threaten to drift shut with every passing heartbeat despite her previous resolve, and kamui eventually realizes that she's fighting a losing battle. 

"takumi?" she asks softly. 

he doesn't open his eyes, but hums an absent, "hm?" 

"you don't need to stay. i'll sleep," she lies plainly. 

"forget about me. sleep," he tells her curtly. 

"i told you; i'm _fine_." 

"just sleep, kamui," he sighs exasperatedly. "you can't keep lying to me that you're fine." 

"i'm not lying—" 

"stop," he snaps, hazel eyes flying open, glaring at her. he closes them once more, inhales deeply through his nose, and when he opens them again, they're startlingly clear, a soft brightness that she's only ever known in the hoshido sun during spring, kissing her skin and melting away the icy snow of winter. whatever comebacks she has dies in her throat. "just... pretend this is for the times i couldn't be there when we were growing up. if you go to sleep, we'll call it even, forever." 

she stares at him, speechless and slack-mouthed. hazel eyes stare at the floor, the wall, everywhere but her own crimson gaze, before he turns around, angles himself away from her prying eyes and starts meditating anew. kamui blinks, suddenly aware of the sting of tears looming behind her eyes, but they never fall. instead, kamui closes her crimson eyes and laughs smally to herself. things should be okay, she decides, and pulls the blanket up over her shoulders. 

kamui sleeps, but she can't remember if sleep was always this chilling as it swept her up and swallowed her. 

* * *

nohr in the early spring. sun tickles her skin like a flighty temptress, promising warmth when the lingering chill of winter still clings to her like a persistent fog. the air is chilly, but sharp with the scent of melting snow and reemerging plants. underneath her toes is the feeling of new grass, wispy and soft, and she breathes the air in greedily. 

"another dream," she sighs. the breath is hoshidan middle-of-summer from her lips, warm and muggy against the crisp cool of nohrian winter-turning-spring. kamui falls to her knees, sits on her haunches and digs her fingers into the soil beside camilla's freshly planted hyacinths. it's cold and moist with recently melted snow, and embeds itself into the spaces between her fingernails. 

"don't ruin my precious hyacinths, sister dearest," a sultry voice titters, and crimson eyes fly up to meet lavender. camilla's perfect lips are curved into a smirk and her striking eyes regard the white-haired girl with a gaze equal parts amused and unreadable. the older woman saunters over, kneeling down and gently pulling kamui's hands from the dirt. slender fingers encircle her wrists easily, and kamui stares at them, stares at how _pale_ camilla is compared to the new olive tone that the hoshidan sun has painted her own skin. 

"camilla, i—" 

"aw, what happened to 'big sister camilla'?" the woman coos, pouting at her petulantly. "outgrown it, have you? perhaps i should start calling you kamui now." she pauses, scrutinizing the tanned backs of kamui's hands. she tightens her fingers around her wrists, wrenches the girl up as she stands. "or perhaps you prefer _hoshidan scum_?" 

"big sister kamui? big sister camilla? what are you two doing here?" 

slender fingers swiftly release throbbing wrists, and camilla smiles like nothing has happened, steps easily in front of kamui. 

"elise!" she exclaims enthusiastically. "why don't you head back inside, sister dearest? i was just checking on my precious flowers. i'll be in shortly." 

"but, our sister—" 

"our sister?" camilla echoes innocuously. "why, sweet elise, there's no one here but me and a traitorous rat. just head back inside." 

elise stares at them in confusion, brows drawn and lips pulls into a pained frown. "wait, but..." 

kamui peeks around camilla fixes hesitant crimson eyes on shaky roseate. the younger girl gasps, eyes widening to the size of saucers, and she dashes forward, soles digging messily into the soil underfoot as she pushes past camilla and tackles kamui, clinging to her like a lifeline. 

" _big sister, how could you leave us?_ " she whispers into the fabric of her tunic. little hands twist desperately into the cloth, little arms squeeze the air from her chest. kamui's arms fall slack at her sides, lost and misplaced, and she can't look into harsh lavender irises, can't meet pleading roseate ones. she just stares at the top of elise's head, hair the same color as hoshido in late summer — warm and rich and golden. 

"i... i'm not your sister, elise," she exhales hollowly. the little girl flinches, backpedals away from her like she is red-hot iron. she looks at her like she is a stranger, like she wields bloodied swords in place of broken words, and the fear in her eyes is a blow to the chest, forcing the breath from her lungs. camilla takes a warning step forward, curls an arm around elise protectively. kamui meets those lavender irises then; they cut into her like knives, digging past the paper thin flesh of her chest, the brittle bones of her ribcage and past the pathetic sack of muscle that is her heart, sending the cool, foul sting of metal into her blood. 

"leave," camilla snarls. "you're evidently good at it, so _do_ show off some more." 

kamui winces. "camilla, please, you have to understand—!" 

"i understand well enough," camilla cuts her off. "nohr is only as strong as the wills of those fighting for it," the woman hisses. "so stay with hoshido, _kamui_. ruin another nation with your half-hearted convictions, and maybe you'll understand the feeling of losing everything when you die for a cause you never believed." 

"but i _do_ believe in hoshido," kamui intones, taking a desperate step forward. camilla matches it, stepping back with flashing lavender eyes. she feels it in her heart again — another jolt of pain — and kamui curls her fingers into fists, digs nails into the flesh of her palms until she feels the fragile skin break. the blood is slick, cold just like the harrowing feeling that grips her, so incongruous to the burning behind her eyes. there's nohr winter under her fingertips, just like there hoshido summer behind her eyes. kamui falls to her knees in the dirt. 

"i love hoshido," she confesses shakily, "just like i loved nohr. like i _love_ nohr." 

"but why can't you just love nohr?" elise hiccups weakly. her glossy roseate eyes latch onto kamui's, tears clinging to her eyelashes and glinting like diamonds. "why can't you just love _us_?" 

"but i do! i love you more than i can ever say, and i don't want you to hurt anymore." 

"then come back." 

"i can't," she says. "i- my heart, my skin and bones and soul... even if they're filled with nohr, they're made of hoshido. i belong here, elise, and i just want you guys to understand." 

"and _we_ just want for you to come back, big sister!" elise exclaims. camilla's arms tighten around her, holding her from another haphazard dash away. kamui wraps her arms around herself, trying to ward off some inexplicable chill. "things would be easier if you had just stayed." 

kamui steps back, a grimace weighing down the corners of her mouth and tears blurring the edges of her vision. elise and camilla drift in and out of her sight, colored masses spinning and swirling into each other, and kamui feels the sudden urge to throw up. 

"no..." she breathes, unable to stop the frantic increase of her pulse, the drowning urge to hyperventilate. "i... i need hoshido. i—" 

kamui bolts up, air frigid against the layer of sweat that coats her skin. she breathes heavily, greedily sucking in air like a drowned man. slowly, the inside of her room comes into focus, the frigid, sweat-soaked sheets under her palms the last thing to fall into place. as her mind slows, her heartbeat slinking back to its tired, sluggish depths, and kamui pulls her knees up to her chest, hides her face in her own self-made cavern. 

" _i miss nohr_ ," she whispers tremblingly — to camilla and elise, to herself, to no one at all. 

* * *

a knock on the door of her tree house, and kamui looks up from the palms of her hands, from the jungle of lines and creases that litter the tanned skin. she can't call herself porcelain anymore, no longer as pale and fragile as the cloudy nohrian skies had painted her, but she can say that her skin is stained gold with hoshido: tanned, warm, and alive with the pattern of darkened freckles that dances across her arms and face. 

"kamui, are you in here?" 

she smooths down her tunic with those hands, pulls down at folds and wrinkles in the fabric, and then hides them away under her legs. 

"come in," she replies, and tired crimson eyes watch as the wooden door swings open and silas walks in. he looks better off than she does, only so pallid from fatigue, cheeks flushed from the bite of early winter just outside. 

his skin hadn't grown gold like hers during the summer, too much nohr in his blood to let the hoshidan sun steal away the porcelain tone of his skin. she still remembers the brilliant red of his cheeks at the tail end of mid-autumn, sunburnt and scarlet while she was just a darkening ivory. she'd laughed at him briefly then, one of the few times she still did since the war started; he'd told her to shut up, something she readily agreed to, if only by means of dragging his mouth to hers. he'd tasted like nohr — like training yard sweat and the promise of cooler, cloudier tomorrows — and she felt painfully like hoshido — too warm afternoons and a chest like bamboo, hollow but somehow still alive. 

"you look terrible," he says simply. the words tear her from her thoughts, from the pool of guilt that fills the pit of her stomach every time she thinks about herself and silas too long. from his mouth, it's not so much an insult as it is the truth; she trusts him more than she even trusts herself, and he's never not honest and forthright and true. 

"so i've heard," she replies, trying for a weak smile. it doesn't work, evidently, because she sees the way his lips twitch down, the way worry floods into his eyes with just a single blink. he rushes forward, sits on the edge of her bed and stares at her. her smile falls, melts like the snow outside will at the end of winter. she doesn't try to hide her fatigue, not when he knows her more than he knows himself, more than she knows herself. silas cups her face gently, tucks loose hair behind her ear and gently thumbs the dark circles beneath her eyes. 

"rumor has it that the newest princess of hoshido suffers from insomnia," he tells her softly, exhales it like some half-laugh, like it is a joke shared between just the two of them. "they say the vengeful spirits of nohr attempt to plague her for her betrayal, but she valiantly fights on, a heroine to all." 

kamui laughs humorlessly. 

"i suppose part of that is true." 

"a heroine to all?" he offers coyly. 

kamui presses a hand to the back of his, fits her fingertips into the valleys between each knuckle, smiles as much as she can manage. 

"i've forgotten what it's like to sleep without seeing stone walls and hurt eyes," she says. "even if i sleep, it's never for long and i never feel rested afterwards." 

silas frowns, lowering his hands from her face to her shoulders. he pulls her into a fierce hug, arms tight around her, not quite choking but far from weak. she feels safe. 

"kamui, you know i would do anything if you asked me to, right?" he speaks it into the crook of her neck, breath pleasantly warm against the skin her armor usually covers, the skin bared by her tunic. "more than anything, you're my best friend, and if it were for your wellbeing, nothing would be too much." 

there is no way to stop the small gasp that forces its way past her throat, and she wraps her arms around his torso, hugs him for all she's worth. silas deserves so much more than this, more than flimsy smiles and lips clinging only to the taste of nohr every time they brush his, but she can't imagine her without him anymore, can't see where she'd be — _if_ she'd be — without him. 

and so she kisses him. it's greedy, selfish, and so, so irresistibly numbing, and she latches onto the sensation like it is the only thing keeping her alive. he kisses her back like he always does: patiently, neither greedy nor unwilling. he _is_ patience, she thinks to herself, always control where she is impulse, wild and uncontainable. her restless fingers flitter across the worn fabric of his tunic, play incessantly at the hems. she can feel the heat of his skin against her fingertips and presses a palm against his stomach, cold fingers greedily soaking in his warmth. silas gasps, from the sudden cold or from the feeling of her fingers splayed against his skin, she can't tell, but the sound pierces her chest like an arrow. 

"stay with me," she mumbles against his lips, eyes screwed shut and fingers trembling. "i won't be able to sleep, so just do this one thing for me. _please_." 

his hands find her face, their warmth a startling contrast to the ice in her own fingertips, and with a tender care, he massages the deep-set creases between her eyes. when kamui opens her eyes, her vision swims with blurry tears and brilliant verdant. the look silas fixes her breaks her heart; his eyes mirror the same maelstrom that threatens to tear open her heart at the seams, and the worst part is: she knows that he feels the same pain she does, siphons the feeling from her tired muscles and arching bones and instills it in his own blood, too, just so she won't have to be alone. he's the string that keeps her grounded, makes sure she's still alive rather than some floating specter, floating and meandering to someplace far, far away. her fingers almost feel spectral, almost numb as they find the smooth button at the top of his tunic, pull it free absently. it's only his own fingers that stop her — the patience to her recklessness, the ground to her floating feet — and when silas thumbs her tears away, she feels like she's never seen so clear before. 

"kamui, is this really what you want?" he asks softly. she blinks, hard, but the persistent burning behind her eyes doesn't fade. 

"i- i don't know," she replies hollowly. "silas, i don't... _i don't know what i want_." 

she blinks again, and the burning turns into blurriness, the blurriness into tears, cascading down her cheeks and branding sticky trails in their wake. her every breath leaves her like the breath of a dying man, rattling painfully in the constricted cage of her ribs. silas eases her hands back to her lap, rubbing soothing patterns across the back of them, and he watches at her — sad eyes, worried eyes, eyes that she knows by heart. kamui just stares at her hands, at the same, stupid m's carved across her palms. 

"i'll stay," he tells her, and she looks back up. the small smile he offers her is the warmest she's ever seen. when he presses a tender kiss against the crown of her head, she throws her arms around him, chokes sobs into his chest. "you'll be okay, kamui. i'll stay until you are: until time ends, until you figure out what you want, and then i'll help you get it, too," he murmurs. 

"i... i want _peace_ ," she breathes feebly. kamui screws her eyes shut, grits her teeth against the shaky breaths that ache to burst forth. she focusses on slowing her breathing, on the steadiness of silas's arms around her and on hoshido, etched into the bamboo floorboards of her treehouse, the golden tint of her skin. she focusses on loosening her locked arms, on the slow and steady cadence of his breathing, and on nohr, how it is immutable in the way silas's skin stubbornly stays two tones paler than hers, the way she remembers the ancient nohrian characters for _i love you_ and traces them against his back. 

silas doesn't say anything, but she can feel the faint brush of his fingertip over the fabric of her tunic: she doesn't deserve the words he traces there, the ancient nohrian characters for _me too_ , but she rests her head on his shoulder and exhales one slow, steady breath. 

* * *

kamui sits at her windowsill, stares out at the blinding shades of alabaster and white that fresh snow has painted the hoshidan soil. if she presses hand against the window pane, her fingers will feel the sting of the cold outside, searingly frigid against the heat of her palms. just past the window view, she can see see a boy's reflection in the glass, sharp eyes fixed on the arrows in his lap, the whetstone in his slender fingers. the sound of takumi sharpening his arrows is numbingly monotonous. 

"you know what you remind me of?" kamui asks softly, watching his reflection as he looks up from his work, eyeing her back curiously. "your eyes are the color of falling leaves right before winter, and your hair is the same grey as the clouds right before it rains that very same season." 

takumi sets his arrows down on the floor beside him, stands up. his footsteps are quiet, an errant, oddly-fitting idiosyncrasy, as he steps forward, leans against the windowsill right beside her. 

"you miss it, don't you," he responds, more statement than accusation than question. the words summon a sharp sense of familiarity, deja vu stabbing her swiftly through the stomach. she turns toward him, her crimson eyes locking onto his for a moment — starkly, startlingly hazel — and she can feel him searching her for the answer before she even replies. 

he already knows the answer; she can read it in his hazel eyes, the too-sharp tones of gold and ochre that have watched her flee from tents with tears rimming her eyes, have seen her tip sleeping draughts past her lips with a resigned, all-consuming fatigue. he knows her answer, and she knows it too — painfully well. it is carved into her skin and bones, poisoning the way she kisses silas, the way she has to force herself not to remember ancient nohrian prayers every time she fells a nohrian soldier. everything she does is tainted by the rotting seed of nohr that she can't unearth from her bleeding, beating heart. she knows the answer to his question, and yet she doesn't want to say it, as if not speaking it would somehow make it less true. 

instead, she sighs quietly. "what does it matter?" she whispers tremulously, closing her eyes and imagining as the words fall from her lips, dancing out the window and catching on the breeze before flying away. "i'm here now, aren't i? i'm not going to leave." 

"but it does matter." 

crimson eyes fly open, met instantly by hazel. 

"why? so you can call me a traitor, like you always have?" she laughs bitterly. takumi grimaces, averting his hazel eyes. 

"i know you're no traitor," he grumbles lowly. kamui doesn't respond, instead thinking of hoshido and of nohr, and how half of her heart exists in each kingdom, but how that only leaves her chest empty and herself lost. that's all she feels like, at times: a lost, heartless princess, fighting a war just for fighting's sake. her self-pitying reverie is broken when he sighs, runs agitated fingers through his bangs. 

"it matters because it means you _have_ a heart, and that you aren't some apathetic war machine," he mutters petulantly. her breath catches at his words, so close to the path of her previous train of thought. he meets her eyes again, and they are the eyes of the boy he is, softly straightforward and flickeringly uncertain. "the words probably sound meaningless coming from me, but they are what i believe." 

his eyes linger on her for a moment, some time between a second and an eternity, and then he turns around, walks back to his seat. his back is to her as he sharpens his arrows this time, and she stares after him, trying to find the right words for her speechlessness — something that can properly quantify the hitch of her breath, the flood of warmth to her chest — but nothing comes out. his words echo repeatedly in her head, and she ponders them while she watches wordlessly as the the slow _shink_ of whetstone against steel restarts its measured metronoming. 

_it means you have a heart._

ever since she was little, her heart has been nohr. now that she's bigger, maybe there's room for hoshido there, too. maybe, in fighting for hoshido, she is looking for that other half of her heart that must lie here, the one she never knew existed until now. she hopes that maybe that is the case, so someday she can find it; someday she can remind herself what it means to love what she fights for, to love hoshido. to love peace and both her families and _nohr_. 

and that's all she feels like, at times: a selfish, greedy princess. and rarely — almost never — she feels a little idealistic, too. she closes her eyes and imagines her bare feet planted half in hoshido and half in nohr, and a whole heart in her chest, with room enough for both. 

* * *

it is with downcast eyes and fingernails in her palms that kamui finds sakura, asks anxiously if she wanted to braid her hair. upon her asking, the little girl's carmine eyes widened, bright and round as the full moon, and she started crying. kamui almost cried, too, although she still can't place why. maybe it was because the smile sakura smiled at her was too extraordinary for words, or perhaps it was the sharp way her stomach twisted at her own words; she could feel her insides convulse and twist beneath her skin, shifting to make room for some new piece of hoshido past the hard stone of nohr. 

she sits with sakura now, as well as azura, all three of them nestled in the latter's room. her knees are pulled up to her chest, eyelids heavy and head swimming with the tune the songstress behind her hums under her breath, some unfamiliar hoshidan lullaby that rings in her bones in a painfully familiar way. the girl is brushing patient fingers through her messy hair, a soothing sensation as she gently tugs out the knots and tangles that litter the winter-white jungle. behind azura, sakura sits cross legged, small fingers threading through the golden-eyed girl's sky colored hair, deftly easing and tugging the strands into a neat braid. 

kamui had expected it to be sakura braiding her hair, oozing lighthearted anecdotes as they sat, but the little girl insisted on bringing azura along as well, something about honorary sisters and braid trains. it's azura behind her, methodically braiding winter-white strands, and kamui tries not to feed the bubbling flood of relief in her stomach that it is the older girl and not sakura. kamui doesn't need to look at sakura's to know they are just like elise's — small and soft, lacking the callousness of war and instilled with warmth and the soothing residue of healing magic. it's a painful comparison, and she feels guilt twist knives in her chest with every repetition of it, but it is one of the first things she had noticed the moment her feet touched hoshidan soil, and it has stuck. 

maybe sakura knows this, and kamui can't help but wonder if the red-haired girl had done this on purpose: invited a third to join them, a neutral presence to mediate between the intrinsic hoshido of sakura's skin, the undeniable nohr under kamui's own. azura's hands are perceptibly larger than sakura's: adroit, willowy fingers and smooth palms. her own hands feel lost in comparison, but there is no other place for them besides wrapped around her knees, so she curls into herself, stares emptily at the bamboo mat that the three of them are seated on, cool and bumpy to the touch. she had never been inside anyone's room besides silas's before, and azura's lack of a standing bed was almost strange to witness. somehow, kamui had expected the pretty girl to own a room like camilla's: elegant and filled with only the finest furniture, the softest bed. instead, the girl's room is simple: a bed mat in one corner, a drawer and a half-length mirror against the wall, two full bookcases and a desk right beside a large, pristine window. the floor is made of bamboo, soft and infinitely warmer than the unforgiving stone floors of nohr's castle. it's strange — so intrinsically hoshido that kamui feels both ensconced and out of place, like her body knows it belongs, but her mind doesn't. 

crimson eyes glance quickly over her shoulder, cataloguing the look of intense concentration in the girl's unwaveringly golden eyes as she braids. she sees herself in azura, in a way, but mirrored. there is nohr in the girl's blood, in the slender, strong set of her jaw, the way her skin is as unfaltering a porcelain as silas's, but she is filled to the brim with hoshido: the elegant, steady set of her posture, the brilliant glint of her golden eyes and the soft melody that tumbles mellifluously from her lips. kamui sees herself in azura, but better. there is a peace in the girl that is almost tangible, a sense of wholeness, like there is no nohr-or-hoshido in her blood, just nohr-and-hoshido. she's almost jealous. 

"alright, i'm done," azura announces, her smooth voice tugging kamui from her thoughts. gently, she pushes the intricate braid over kamui's shoulder, letting the tail cascade over her chest. with tentative fingers, kamui studies it, traces the folds and curls of the pattern with an absent wonder. when she turns around to face the girl, there is only awe on her lips. 

"you're amazing," kamui tells the girl, and she means every word of it, every syllable and letter. it's for the braid, but it's also for so much more; it's a compliment paid to the golden eyed girl, but it is also a knife in kamui's own chess that she twists willingly, a painful reminder that she is no azura, no perfect elegance and centered control. she _is_ jealous, she thinks; perhaps just a little. it's hard not to be jealous of perfection, but then, it's also hard to be jealous of such warm golden eyes, such soft smiles. azura's face alights at kamui's comment, a spark visibly lighting in her stunningly bright irises, a perfect smile tugging up at her lips. 

"thank you," she breathes, eyes creasing from the sheer force of her grin. "although, you were already very beautiful before i'd done anything. i could only wish my hair were as smooth as yours," she laughs lightly, fingering a loose strand of it. 

behind her, sakura still sits diligently, fingers trying to tame the endless strands of hair into a more manageable state. 

"i'm half way done," sakura offers, carmine eyes trained on the strands of sky that cascade through her fingers. "i finally just brushed all the tangles out, so i can finally start." 

azura laughs, lightly and melodically. 

"don't worry about it, sakura-chan," she reassures her, wrapping slender fingers around the little girl's. "if anything, i should thank you for brushing my unruly hair." 

"of course," the younger girl replies warmly. "ah, but you did such a wonderful job on kamui-nee's hair! as expected, azura-nee is still the best." 

"it is beautiful, isn't it?" kamui agrees softly. "i've never seen a style like this before." 

"oh?" azura chimes. "but it's a traditional hoshidan style." 

kamui winces just as azura realizes her slip. 

"oh, kamui, i'm so—" 

"don't apologize," she interrupts. kamui exhales a heavy sigh, fingers the tail end of her braid. "it's fine," she lies reassuringly. she doesn't believe the words coming from her own mouth, but the other girls don't say a word, so neither does she. with a deep breath, she shifts again, turning back toward the wall before her and wrapping her arms around her knees. "it's fine." 

"no, but it isn't," azura insists, so painfully humble. "i was ignorant and careless of your feelings. please, forgive me." 

kamui grits her teeth, trying to bite back the desperate waver that threatens to push its way into her voice from her tightening throat. she's perfect — humility and a soft, soothing voice — and kamui feels her very self shrivel in her light. maybe she would have been better off not trying to mend ties with her newly adopted hoshidan family, trying to offer things she simply wasn't ready to follow through. she might not ever be able to. sakura must be ashamed of her. 

"the only thing that needs to be forgiven is me," kamui mutters, dragging herself lugubriously to her feet. she blinks thickly, fingers listlessly tugging away the band that held her braid in place. the loose hair begins to fall away from its intricate style, unfurling like flower petals before they fall for the winter. "thank you both for allowing me this much. i've no more place here if i can't let old alliances go and new ones grow. all that makes me is a traitor." 

sakura gasps softly, dashes after her, grabbing onto the back of her tunic. "nee-san, wait," she blurts desperately. "i— _please don't leave us again_ ," she whispers tremulously, hugging he older girl tightly. "you've done nothing wrong; don't apologize, just... just stay." 

crimson eyes squeeze shut, the teeth below them grit so harshly against each other that their jaw might shatter from the sheer force. kamui can't help the tears that ebb from her closed eyes, clinging to her long lashes and staining the timbre of her words. 

"i'm sorry," she repeats feebly, clinging to the fragile wrists that lay pressed against her torso. "i'm sorry, sakura; i'm so, so sorry." 

"there's nothing to be sorry for," she replies whisperingly. 

"there's _everything_." 

"there's no shame in missing an old home, even in the midst of a new one," azura offers softly, stepping forward and placing a placating hand against kamui's arm. "it means that both are a part of you, rather than just one." 

"how can they both be a part of me when they don't fit, when nothing i do can equal to them both?" kamui exclaims. "i just... i want _peace_ ," she whispers hollowly, a strangled sob following past her trembling lips. "i want hoshido, but i also want nohr." kamui sniffles weakly, rubs tears away against the expanse of her palms. she wriggles free of sakura's grasp and fingers what is left of the braid azura had pulled her hair into, traces out the previous three strands wistfully. "nohr, hoshido, and peace," she repeats quietly, turning to face them with tear-stained crimson eyes. "like this braid, i just want them to fit together seamlessly." 

"nee-san..." 

"i don't know how to braid, you know?" she blurts humorlessly. "elise always said she'd teach me, but it never happened before i— i..." 

"kamui-nee, i'll teach you!" sakura offers suddenly. carmine eyes stare up at her, determination shining brightly even past the remnants of tears stuck to her eyelashes, to the swell of her rosy cheeks. "i'll teach you every braid i know," she promises, "even until my fingers bleed and fall off, if i have to." she gives kamui her best smile, putting the sun itself to shame, and the tears on her cheeks glint like stars. 

"and i'll help," azura adds. "we'll start with hoshido, work toward peace, and you can give us nohr." 

her smile is not quite sakura's miniature sun of a smile, but as willowy, strong fingers fix the intricate braid of kamui's winter-white hair, it is one that promises everything that spills past its lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, thoughts, conversation starters, etc. are all welcome! Seriously, I could discuss writing any time.


	3. yours is the hand that catches me when i fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> late winter - start of summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, sorry that this update took so long... It's been a hectic month, but to make up for it, this chapter is almost as long as the first two chapters combined, haha. Oh, and since I'm already at it, happy new year to everyone reading this! (we're that much closer to Fates and I could scREAM AHHHHHH)
> 
> Anyway! Unbeta-ed, so forgive any little mistakes that lurk, and I hope you guys enjoy this final chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it~! ^u^

"why are you hiding, big sister?" 

kamui looks up from her hands — the backs of them, painted with slender valleys and ridges rather than palms etched with creases and m's, memento mori and phantom splashes of scarlet and dust. the backs of her hands are clean, unblemished as fresh, porcelain snow, but golden as the sun-painted sandbanks of the hoshido shoreline. 

"oh, was i hiding?" kamui asks pleasantly, pushing herself to her feet. the ground beneath her feet feels like hoshido spring, sakura petals and rain-moistened soil, but there is nohr summer in the air; the scent of rose bushes and elderberries dances delicately through the breeze. it's a dreamlike combination, dizzying as it is intoxicating, and she inhales it greedily. it's not hard to tell: she's dreaming again. 

elise giggles musically, and it wrenches kamui away from her idle thoughts, catches her breath in her throat; it's a sound she's forgotten that she knows, and it drives a blade through her heart as much as it warms it. 

"we've been looking for you everywhere!" the younger girl elaborates. "if that's not hiding, i don't know what is." 

"we?" kamui echoes cautiously. her pulse picks up like clockwork, winding into a full sprint, and kamui digs her heels into the cool dirt, tensed and ready to run. she cannot help the apprehension in her tone, the fear that oozes itself into her veins like poison, clouding old memories of nohr, of lavender hair and musical laughs in summertime games, of chocolate-brown eyes and the scent of library that always clung to amethyst wherever he went. 

"yup, me and—" 

"nee-san, there you are!" 

a head of petal-pink hair crashes into her at full force, and nothing stops kamui from being bowled over; she lands in the dirt with the grace of a toppling tree, dizzily blinking sense back to her spinning eyes to the tune of a thousand repeated _forgive me_ 's. when crimson eyes fall back into focus, sakura is standing before her with her head bowed, effusing apologies like a fountain, and elise is standing right behind her, roseate eyes twinkling and lips contorting around badly stifled laughter. kamui feels dizzy all over again. 

"sakura? elise? wha- what are you guys doing here?" 

"onii-san was looking for you." 

"and so was big brother!" 

"xander and ryouma-nii? but why are they—?" 

"hinoka-nee and the lavender nee-san mentioned looking for you, as well," sakura notes. 

"ooh, and we should probably find big brother leo and your ponytail brother, too!" the other girl adds brightly. 

kamui blinks. "w-wait, but—" 

"c'mon, big sis, let's go!" elise exclaims, not waiting to grab kamui's hand and dash off, dragging a bewildered white-haired girl behind her. kamui stumbles over her own feet as the smaller girl pulls her along, and she watches as the open air courtyard morphs into familiar paper-canvas walls, feels as the soft soil turns into stone, cool and solid underfoot. kamui can't place where she is beyond dreaming, and the euphonious cacophony of hoshido to her every side and nohr pleasantly cool under her feet makes reasoning it out all the harder. 

"h-hey, elise, slow down!" kamui protests, tugging at the little fingers that encircle her wrist. the girl doesn't hear her, and kamui tugs harder, tearing her hand from elise's and stumbling backward with a flourish. she crashes into another body, head spinning, and steady hands find her shoulders carefully. crimson eyes look up to find burgundy ones, and hair the color of crimson. 

"hinoka-nee?" kamui asks dizzily. "sakura was just looking for you..." a glance over her shoulder, and both little girls are gone. kamui's eyes widen, and when she turns back to hinoka, there is concern in her burgundy irises. 

"sakura-chan was looking for _you_ ," the older girl says slowly. "just like camilla-san and me." 

"camilla?" 

"okay, hands off my precious little sister," a familiar voice interjects, and kamui watches blankly as hinoka is pushed away and lavender hair invades her sight, firm arms encircling her tightly. camilla hugs the younger girl tightly against her chest, as blissfully unaware of kamui's discomfort at the position as always. 

"c-camilla– big sister! you're, ngh, s-suffocating me," kamui coughs weakly. 

"nonsense," camilla coos, nuzzling the top of her head fondly. kamui wriggles restlessly in camilla's hold. 

"hinoka-nee, help me!" 

"pfft– i'm s-sorry, kamui-chan," hinoka snickers. "i can't help it; your face is too cute!" 

"nee-san, you traitor; let me gooo, camilla," kamui whines, pushing away from the woman petulantly. "i'll push you harder; don't you test me!" 

"aw, that's the adorable little sister i know," camilla singsongs, squeezing the girl closer to her chest. kamui coughs again, grimacing uncomfortably, and braces her arms against camilla's torso, shoving herself as forcefully from the woman's grip as she can. wide violet eyes are the last thing she sees before kamui falls backwards over a banister, landing on her back in a flurry of dust and limbs. she coughs more, from dust inhalation rather than asphyxiation, and crimson eyes blink dizzily once again. it's amazing how she's still sane, at this rate. 

"big sister?" 

"kamui?" 

"leo? t-takumi?" 

"that was quite the entrance you made," an amused tone notes, amethyst eyes glinting teasingly. 

the other boy snorts. "how you manage to trip over something as obnoxiously big as that is kind of astounding," hazel eyes quip, but he holds out a hand to her nonetheless. kamui takes it absently, mind still spinning as she takes in the sight before her. it's the sparring grounds, obviously, but there are her brothers with neither bow nor tome, practice blades in their hands and sweat glinting off their brows. crimson eyes blink incredulously. 

"sakura and elise..." kamui begins slowly, "imouto and little sister were looking for you guys." 

"were they?" leo asks curiously. "prince takumi and i were here sparring the entire time. i believe the count is currently 5-4, in my favor," he adds smugly, smirking at the other boy. takumi scowls. 

"4-4," he shoots back. "that last match didn't count." 

"oh?" leo arches a thin eyebrow at the boy. "my apologies if you were too distracted by _my_ big sister to properly fight, then," he says pleasantly. 

takumi cheeks flush red and he glares at the blond, pointing an accusing finger at him. "no, _my_ apologies that you're not as aware of your surroundings as i am, prince leo," he huffs. "and she's _my_ big sister. right, nee-san?" 

two pairs of expectant eyes turn on her, and kamui does the only logical thing. she bursts into uncontrollable giggles. expectant gazes turn confused, and kamui just rolls her crimson eyes. 

"c'mon, let's go find nii-san and big brother," she says, grabbing both of their hands and dragging them out of the courtyard. practice swords clatter to the ground behind them, and kamui isn't sure where she's going, but runs there nonetheless. eventually, she reaches the end of a hallway, an endlessly tall oaken door, and pushes it open with a flourish. it's bright inside, light flooding in through windows like hoshidan summer, like nohrian summer, and painting the inside of the room gold. 

"ah, imouto; you're finally here," ryouma notes. 

"i take it you took your time, little sister," xander adds warmly. 

kamui laughs softly, eyes creasing as she smiles widely at them. when she opens her eyes, she's back in her room, crimson eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the morning light streaming in through her window. throwing her sheets off herself, kamui stands and realizes she feels more well-rested than she has in months. 

* * *

silas is alone in the middle of a grassy field, practicing lance drills on the empty expanse, when she sees him. crimson eyes observe him for a moment, the twirl of his lance as it glints in the spring sun, the determined set of his mouth. he spins his lance with a strange smoothness, a fluid grace that pulls at strings in the back of her memory, but that she knows she has never seen in the boy’s movements before. it’s familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, and she watches, mesmerized. when he finishes a movement, he spins the weapon deftly, twirling it to a stop and sticking the dull end into the dirt beside him. 

the mesmerism ebbs away as he catches his breath, and just as silas tugs the weapon back to an offensive stance, kamui sprints toward him. he doesn't notice her until she's just meters away, and vibrant verdant eyes widen as she tackles him full force. the lance flies out of his hand and the two of them tumble into the grass in a flurry of limbs and short breaths. 

"kamui, what's wrong?" are the first words to leave his mouth. he’s earnest verdant eyes, as clear a green as the new grass under his back and beneath her palms. kamui stares into them, compares their bold shade to the cascade of her winter-colored hair; colorful against colorless, silas against kamui, and kamui feels her heart swell for this boy, for the color he infuses into her monochrome bones. he’s more than she’s ever deserved, and yet, he’s here. 

"i love you," she tells him simply. 

silas flushes bright red. 

"huh?!" he squeaks suddenly, verdant eyes widening. "w-wait, where is this coming from?" 

"nowhere," she breathes airily. " _everywhere_. i don't know." 

she sits up carefully at that, tugs silas up beside her. he keeps a respectable distance between the two of them, red still evident against the porcelain of his skin, and kamui can't help but smile smally. 

"kamui,” he begins, “i—" 

"i'm sorry, silas," she interrupts softly. she runs slender fingers through her bangs, pushes the messy hair out of her eyes and behind her ear. there is a melancholy behind her tongue that she knows a little too well, so accustomed to the way it makes words fall heavy and fume-like past her lips, but there is also a cool lightness to it — the delicate sprinkle of rain against a background of hot hoshidan summers — and kamui clings to it, latches onto it desperately. it is the solace she has found amidst a previously barren expanse, the same reprieve to her melancholy as cool rain is to sun-baked skin, and she wants to share it, wants it to wash over the heaviness behind her tongue and swallow it, to imbue and instill itself into her words so that she can speak and hear hope, and have others hear it too. she wants to speak to silas with summer rain on her tongue, clean and cool over the scars of heatstroke-hot breaths and humidity-heavy desperation. "i'm sorry." 

"huh? but, why?" 

"i meant it, of course," she says quietly. "that i love you. i could never mean anything more than i do this, but i still think you deserve an apology,” she continues, staring at the ground, at the back of her hands and her fingers pulling up pieces and shreds from the icy, new grass. “i’ve been selfish, and i haven’t been treating you as well as i should have been. having a friend as selfless as you - that’s irreplaceable, and i…" she blinks hard, tries to will away the newfound burning behind her eyes. "you deserve so much more than tear-stained shoulders and selfish kisses." 

a shaky sigh and kamui leans back against her hands, palms pressing against the cold, early spring ground and eyes turned up toward the sky. it's cloudless, as crystal clear a blue as ever, and she stares at it, follows it until it ends at some faraway horizon, where a shoreline and the sea will eventually meet it. she's only seen the ocean once, dug her toes into the fine, hoshidan sand, but it is a sight she will never unsee; on the cloudy day she'd gazed at it, the grey light that oozed through the clouds painted the vibrant waters the same shade as silas's hair, and she pointed it out absently, kicking up the ebbing tide toward him with a soft laugh. 

"okay," he says eventually, startling her from her reverie. crimson eyes look at him curiously, and there is a soft smile on his lips, softer even than flour-fine hoshidan sand beneath her toes. he rises, offering her an open hand. kamui stares at the hand first — calloused fingers, scarred palms, porcelain skin — and then at silas, unable to shake the feeling of awe that permeates her. she takes his hand, and it fits to hers with a comforting ease. "i forgive you, kamui," he tells her as he tugs her up. "i never wouldn't." 

she blinks, winter-white eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings under the brilliant rays of the cool spring sun. when kamui breathes in the crisp air, it is with trembling lips and a tight throat, and her vision blurs with searing tears that never quite fall. her arms are thrown around silas's neck like it is second nature and kamui hugs him tightly, forcing back tears and tremors alike. he stiffens in shock, but the rigidity is quick to subside, just like his arms are quick to wrap around her torso, place comforting hands against her back. 

"n-no more tear-stained shoulders," she promises shakily, the tremble of her voice mirroring the uncontrollable tremble of her frame. "i'm done crying," she whispers, leaning her head softly against his, "i'm done crying. just... let me stay like this for a little bit more. _please._ " 

silas squeezes her reassuringly, taps his head gently against hers. crimson eyes stay shut as she waits for her breathing to calm, to slow down its tremulous stagger and align with silas's. it's an immeasurable amount of time that passes, neither long nor short, until kamui can feel her heartbeat again in her chest, slow and steady. she opens her eyes, blinking under the brilliant sunlight, and loosens her arms around him. 

"i think i might miss this," he says quietly, unwinding his arms from around her and stepping back to meet her crimson eyes. "but, i'm also glad. even if we're putting distance between us again, i feel as though we're closer than ever." 

kamui blinks. "this changes nothing," she tells him. 

he smiles smally at her. "but it does," he replies simply. 

slender brows furrow above crimson eyes, and kamui purses her lips, rolling words around in her mouth. when she glances up at verdant eyes, they are bright — brighter than nohr in spring, than hoshido in spring — and they're beautiful. 

"close your eyes," she says eventually. a brief flicker of confusion in verdant eyes, but he closes them anyway. kamui takes a light step forward, sliding her eyes shut and pushing herself up on her toes. "one for the road," she murmurs whisperingly, and she leans forward, only to be met with calloused fingers instead of lips. her eyes flutter open and silas is watching her curiously, a hand held up between his lips and hers. 

"i don't need it," he tells her warmly. "you're still here, and with my best friend at my side, i could never ask for anything more." 

kamui falls back to her heels, blinks owlishly at him. she feels something wet trickle down her cheek before she regains herself, furiously swiping away the rebellious tears with the backs of her fingers. 

"thank you, silas," she whispers, smiling her brightest, tear-stained smile. "for everything. i never could have had a better friend than you." 

he grins back at her — that same, perfect, blinding grin — and kamui knows that nothing she says could ever be more true. 

* * *

“wait,” kamui calls. the word leaves her lips before she can stop it, tumbling recklessly out with no regards to the potential aftermath. and there is aftermath; grey hair swishes airily as he whips around, fixing quizzical hazel eyes on her. there is no biting scrutiny in his gaze, no hint of a scowl weighing down his thin lips, but there is curiosity in his eyes, clear and unguarded. 

“what?” takumi asks. 

kamui steps forward carefully, gauging his reaction as she does. he doesn't shy away, standing steadfast before her, and when she reaches for his left hand, he gives it freely, gaze sliding from hers to her hands. it is with a feather-light touch that she pulls away the bindings on his arm guards, tugs off the cobalt blue gloves that hide slender fingers, hoshido-tan skin. she lets his things tumble to the ground when she sees it: fraying bandages wrapped messily over the expanse of his palms, a dull red poking through the layers. 

"it's nothing," he insists defensively, tugging his hand away. kamui tightens her fingers around his wrist, crimson eyes flying up to his. 

"what happened?" she asks, running fingers over the fabric gingerly. his fingers curl and uncurl anxiously. 

"it's nothing," takumi repeats petulantly, and kamui clucks her tongue, rolls her crimson eyes in exasperation. without so much as another word, she tightens her fingers around his slender wrists, swooping down to grab his gloves and dashing off with the archer in tow. his protestations are lost to the crisp bite of early spring air on her cheeks, the cool pressure of soft earth under her feet, as she drags them to the infirmary tent. it's a beautiful time of year, winter finally having faded and spring beginning to blossom in the wispy grass underfoot, the growing hours of sunlight overhead; she breathes it all in giddily, letting it paint a content smile on her lips. with that same grin, she turns back to look at takumi, who starts in face of her smile before restlessly beginning his struggles again. a small laugh tumbles from her lips, and when they burst through the canvas flaps of the medical tent, kamui finally releases him, watching in amusement as he crosses his arms and glowers at her. 

“it won’t take long,” she reassures him. “you wrapped your hand terribly, so i’m just going to fix it. sit down.” 

she begins rummaging through the chests as he deposits himself on the nearest cot, pretending not to hear his petulant grumbling as she searches for the supplies she needs. one rag, a bottle of ointment, and a fresh roll of bandages later, kamui is setting herself up on the stand by his cot, filling the nearby basin with fresh water. takumi watches her work absently, and when the white-haired girl turns back to him, he averts her eyes pointedly. kamui bites back a smile and doesn’t say a word on it. 

instead, she holds out a hand expectantly, and takumi eyes her carefully for a moment before placing his own in it. she gets to work quickly, unwinding the messy bandages from around his slender palm, gently peeling away the portions where blood has dried, gluing the fabric stubbornly together. he winces softly every so often, trying not to squirm too much in her hold, and when she pulls the past portion of the cloth off, he hisses, fingers twitching at the feeling. there is a relatively small amount of dried blood still on his palm, smeared across one thin slice down across his skin, and kamui can't help but wonder just where the archer had sustained such an injury. 

“how did this happen?” she tries asking as she picks up the rag and wets it with the water. kamui sees him frown from the corner of her eye and dabs at the dry blood carefully, deciding not to wait for an answer. it doesn’t come, and as she slowly cleans the blood from the cut, the shape of it becomes clearer. silently, she puts the rag down and takes the ointment, pouring some of the liquid onto her fingers. it is a sickly green against the tan of her skin, but the feeling of refreshing cool that it instills in her skin is wonderful, and she takes takumi’s hand carefully, spreading the ointment over the line of his cut. he grunts softly at the cool sensation, but resolutely doesn’t complain. a few minutes later, and kamui is tying off a fresh bandage over his palms, a satisfied smile pulling up at her lips. 

"there, all done," she finally announces, cupping his freshly bandaged hand in her own. takumi draws the hand back scrutinizingly, observing it at all angles before humming softly under his breath, blinking at the hand in something akin to surprise. kamui arches an expectant eyebrow at him when his eyes return to meet hers, and he purses his lips, sighing through his nose. 

"thanks, n-nee-san," he grounds out awkwardly. crimson eyes flicker quizzically up to his. takumi doesn't meet her eye, gaze pointedly averted, but kamui notes the faint pink of his cheeks and his petulant pout and tries not to giggle. 

"it's weird," she comments instead. "hearing you say that." 

"i'm being polite," he snaps, his pout intensifying. "sorry if it puts you off." 

kamui laughs at that, a clear, unabashed sound. “i think it was better when you just called me kamui,” she admits casually. “i like my name when you say it.” 

his hazel eyes fly up to hers. 

“thank you, kamui,” he repeats quietly, and she winces softly; this time she is the one averting her eyes, painfully aware of the sunburn-red blush that paints her cheeks. kamui stands up, busies herself with cleaning up the medical supplies she had taken out. the feeling of hazel eyes on her back is heavy and undeniable, and she forces out breath after slow breath, trying not to focus on the prickling sensation of his gaze too much. she piles the basin, rag, ointment, and spare bandages onto the same tray and heads back to the chests as briskly as she can. when the ointment bottle topples to the ground, she grimaces, propping the tray against her hip and bending down in an attempt to pick the runaway bottle up. 

another slender set of fingers catches the container before she does, and takumi hands her the bottle with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

“smooth,” he deadpans, and kamui sniffs at him, turning to put away the supplies with the prim upturn of her nose. 

“you’re one to say that,” she repartees, methodically putting her things away. “i’ve seen a scar like that before,” she tells him, “on my own palms, when i was first learning how to sharpen my sword.” kamui closes the medical chest gently, turning to the grey-haired boy with a teasing smile on her lips. “is takumi trying to learn how to use a sword now?” she quips, and he narrows his hazel eyes at her. she expects a snide remark to follow soon after, but the boy thrusts his injured hand out at her instead, sniffing at her primly. 

“you’d make a terrible healer,” he tells her curtly. “the bandages are already coming loose.” 

kamui blinks, steps closer with a small frown on her lips. she takes his hand questioningly, eyeing the white bandages circling his palm. with careful fingers, she tugs at the fabric, undoing the knot at the back of his hand and rearranging it, pulling the cloth tighter over his skin. he doesn't say a word as she works, but she is aware of those golden-hazel eyes on her, focused on the curve of her fingers and the line of her knuckles. his own fingers are more willowy than her own, free of the callouses that years of sword-wielding have instilled in them. she scrutinizes her own work more carefully this time, turning his hand over in her own as she does. 

"your hands are warm," she tells him distractedly, fingertips tracing over his palms. an absent-minded smile pulls up at her lips, soft and unconscious, and she slides her palm up to his, lining up their fingers carefully. his are longer than hers, more slender and less calloused, and she gazes at the differences between their hands, mesmerized. their skins bear matching tones now, but she remembers nohrian porcelain against hoshidan bronze, a shatteringly fragile skin next to a hardened strength. she'd never thought herself so pallid until she arrived in hoshido in the middle of winter, a colorless porcelain even against their fading gold. the similarity now is startling as much as it is comforting, and kamui turns her palm against his, intertwining their fingers without so much as a second thought. skin to skin, she can see that his is the barest hint darker, more soaked in the hoshidan sun than hers. 

“so are yours,” he replies, just as distractedly soft. her crimson eyes look up toward his own hazel irises, but his gaze is trained on their intertwined hands; he curls his fingers into hers almost absently, hesitantly, but the resulting fit is breathtaking. his eyes slide up slowly to meet hers, and when they do, she stares at them, struggles to find the breath that has long since left her. kamui doesn’t dare to blink, too enraptured by the golden gleam of his hazel eyes, the heat buzzing between their palms. takumi opens his mouth to say something — maybe he does say something, but kamui never hears it — and then closes it, shaking his head softly. it’s jarring nonetheless and she snaps back to reality soon after, blinking away the bleary haze that had settled in the front of her mind, pulling their hands apart and stepping back as if burned. 

kamui exhales a slow, shaky breath. 

“kamui,” takumi starts, reaching for her arm. she takes a subtle step back. 

“take care of your arm,” she blurts, meeting his hazel eyes one last time before turning on her heel and rushing away. she exits the tent with the flourish of canvas flaps, immediately dashing to the side of the tent and hiding just around its corner. she hears takumi burst through the flaps soon after, and holds her breath, acutely aware of the pounding pulse in her chest, the rushing blood in her ears. a quiet cluck of his tongue and takumi heads off in the opposite direction, brisk footsteps thudding dully against the soft earth. kamui sighs heavily and runs agitated fingers through her bangs. her hair is silky and cool beneath her fingertips, a stark contrast to the supple cotton of his bandages and the searing heat of his palms. 

* * *

kamui walks carefully through the forest, fallen flower petals and dirt crunching under her bare feet. they are damp and cool from the residual chill of early spring, but her calloused feet don't feel it past the brief tang of cold softness against tough, tired skin. she inhales deeply, the scent of cherry wood and flower petals tickling her nose, filling her with a sense of calm that she can cling to, that she grabs like it is her lifeline; it is, in a way: this calm that permeates her, reminding her to breathe and listen to her heartbeat, in time with the sway of ever-tall sakura trees in the hoshidan breeze. 

since arriving in hoshido, she's seen an entire cycle's worth of seasons pass before her, felt the changing earth under her toes. spring: the scent of melting snow and the soft blanket of fallen sakura petals. summer: painting her skin a golden tan and filling her to the brim with a searing, all-consuming warmth. fall: temperate afternoons and night skies clearer than crystal, with more stars than there are freckles against her skin. winter: blindingly white snow, numbingly cold underfoot, and the never-dulling emerald of the bamboo forests that surround them. where nohr would turn into a monochrome wonderland during winter, hoshido was never not awash in color, blindsiding her everywhere she walked. 

winter was always her favorite season, the falling snow a sister in shade to her own hair, and it continues to be so, even a country away. but there is an immutable magic to spring in hoshido, one that permeates her every nerve ending and makes her feel _alive_. when the winter-white snow gives way to the richest, darkest soil she has seen, when biting winds turn soft at the edges, carrying the scent of cherry trees in their amorphous arms; spring is unfailingly stark every time she experiences it, and it feels like being born anew. 

kamui lets her eyes drift shut, and she inhales deeply, taking in the springtime air for all it is worth. when she breathes out, her breath is heavy with the fumes of old memories rearranged and new ones to be made: something like camilla’s rose gardens soaked in icy spring rain and cherry petals pressed between her feet and the earthy soil. the way she feels herself gravitate to either side is inextricable, neither ceasing to beckon her with sultry arms, and kamui stands in the very middle of it all, letting the tides of both countries ebb over her bare toes. it's warm — an unprecedented sense of belonging — and dances across her skin like the electric buzz under steady, slender fingertips, like the soft spring sunlight creeping through the sakura flower ceiling and wrapping her in a blanket of liquid gold. crimson eyes flutter open, and there is blinding brilliance around her, hoshido burning itself unforgettably into her retinas, and kamui lets it. 

with a small smile, she continues walking, brushing her fingertips along the rough trunks of passing trees. a few paces down her path and she stops, palm pressed gently against the trunk of a particularly tall tree. the rough pattern of the wood digs itself into the soft flesh of her palms, but kamui just presses her hands closer, throws her arms around the lowest branch and hauls herself up. it’s exhilarating, the feeling of being in the air, of her feet so far from the ground that tries constantly to hoard their reassuring weight, so she continues pulling herself up even higher, until her hair is tangled with twigs and sakura petals and her head just barely pokes past the flower-petal ceiling and touches the crystal blue sky. she stays perched atop her high branch, the rough pattern of the wood already pleasantly imprinted across her palms, swinging her legs to the ripple of petals in the breeze. 

it's utterly quiet, save for the soft whisper of the wind and the rush of her breath, and kamui wonders how easily she could fall asleep here, if she could do so without falling down. she almost decides to, letting her eyelids drift lazily shut, until a familiar voice chimes out delicately below her, her musical laughter filling the air. 

kamui doesn’t need to look down to know that it is azura: so clear in the pleasant timbre of her voice, the barely there crunch of twigs and petals under her light footsteps. the accompanying set of footsteps is also one she knows — has memorized by heart, has set the metronome of her breath to more times than she could count. azura sings the first few bars to the same hoshidan lullaby that she had been humming the time she braided kamui’s hair, and silas follows uncertainly after, the foreign words clumsy and timorous on his tongue. the blue haired girl giggles warmly at his attempts, and his low laughter follows soon after, a soft embarrassment tinting the usual timbre of his voice. 

“you almost had it,” azura tells him. “don’t be afraid to sing. the old language is hard, but you have a nice voice. it’s different, unique, and i like listening to it.” 

“nah,” he replies flippantly, slowing his footsteps to a stop. azura’s fade away soon after, and kamui strains her ears, listens carefully. “i’m really no good at singing,” he insists. they’re right beneath her hiding spot, and kamui shifts carefully on her perch, peering through the foliage to better see the two. azura blinks at the boy owlishly, and silas just shrugs. there is that familiar smile on his face, the one always accompanied by sunset-pink cheeks and a hand rubbing self consciously at the back of his neck. silas smiles at azura sheepishly, and, in that moment, he’s somehow smaller than the petite girl, reduced to some uncertain little boy that kamui hasn’t seen in years. she shakes her head softly at her best friend, unable to help a small smile at his expense. 

“nonsense,” the blue haired girl says, and kamui finds herself readily agreeing. “you’re easily one of the best singers i’ve met.” 

a nervous laugh, the swift crunch of leaves being kicked underfoot. with a small thump, silas leans against the tree kamui is perched in. 

“you don’t need to say that just for my sake, azura,” he says. 

“don’t worry,” she chimes, “i’m saying it for mine.” kamui can’t see silas’s face at this angle, but he doesn’t say anything. there’s a brief moment of silence and then azura chuckles lightly, takes him by the hands and pulls him off the trunk. “there’s no need to be so modest,” she laughs. then she lowers her voice and steps closer to the boy, prompting kamui to cling tighter to her branch as she leans down, trying to catch the other girl’s words. “besides,” azura whispers, “don't tell kamui, but i tried to teach her this same song once. at the time, i didn’t have the heart to tell her that she sounded a little like a dying wyvern.” 

azura steps away after that, a sly smile on her face and one slender finger pressed against her lips. silas snorts unabashedly, bursting into raucous laughter at the thought, and something in the warm glow of azura’s gaze, the musical lightness of silas’s laugh, keeps kamui from feeling too affronted. 

“alright,” silas eventually acquiesces, the laughter slowly fading from his voice. “i accept your compliment. thank you.” 

“of course,” she responds pleasantly. “now, come on, we’re going to be late for kitchen duty if we don’t head back now. i’ll teach you the chorus while we work.” 

“i’d like that,” he tells her honestly, and the words cause a smile to blossom across her delicate features, warming the honey-gold of her eyes. “why don’t you go ahead, though? there’s something i wanted to check on first.” 

azura blinks curiously at the knight but doesn’t question him any further before she nods, heading back toward camp. once the songstress is out of sight, silas leans back against kamui’s tree, crossing his arms and tilting his head up. verdant eyes lock onto crimson, and he arches a thin eyebrow at her. 

“didn’t anyone ever tell you spying was rude?” he asks. kamui doesn't respond, only vaulting herself off her perch and landing beside her best friend with the satisfying crunch of twigs underfoot. she smiles at him sheepishly, tucking rebellious strands of winter-white hair behind her ears. 

“i can still hear your nohrian accent when you try to sing in ancient hoshidan,” she tells him instead. “i’m sure azura can hear it, too.” 

“i know,” he sighs, shrugging helplessly. 

kamui lifts herself up onto her toes, ruffles the top of his hair. he swats her hand away petulantly, but she only responds with a brilliant smile. 

“i think that’s why she likes it, silly,” she snorts, rolling her eyes at him. “it’s both nohr and hoshido like nothing else is, and you make it work. listening to you sing, i almost feel like… like maybe having nohr and hoshido coexist isn’t too unreasonable a wish.” 

silas stares at her blankly for a moment before he blinks, a small grin of his own blossoming on his face. “you might not be a good singer, but since it's you, kamui, i believe you can find a song that’ll unite them both.” 

kamui grabs takes him gently by the wrists, tugging him off the tree. “then i’m going to count on you and azura to help me sing it when i do,” she teases, winking at him playfully. “now, i think you’ve made her wait for a bit too long. she’s still a princess after all, and i know for a fact that princesses don’t like waiting.” 

he arches an eyebrow at her. “is that so?” 

a roll of crimson eyes, the gentle nudge of slender hands against his back. “just go catch up, lover boy.” silas sticks his tongue out at her, but doesn’t say a word more before he jogs off in azura’s direction, the spring foliage crunching rhythmically under his feet. kamui leans her back against the very same tree, and watches his form disappear with a warm smile on her lips. 

* * *

kamui sits patiently, watches as steam curls up delicately and deftly from the small earthenware cups. hinoka and ryouma sit across from her with their legs folded. 

the latter is a towering figure even while seated, and kamui watches him pour tea with a fluid elegance that she might have never associated with the large man. while he is brutal elegance in battle, breathtaking strength and smooth force, the careful flow of his movements now is incongruous yet comforting. it is a decidedly human side to a previously untouchable figure. he's no longer _nii-sama_ , not quite the foreboding commander of the army. kamui watches as calloused hands set down the teapot carefully, not so much as a telltale clunk against the bamboo mat floor, and she can’t help the small smile that curls up at her lips. as commanding a leader and daunting a figure ryouma is, he’s also ryouma-nii, her older brother, and he's making tea just for the three of them. an airy chuckle breezes past her lips. 

hinoka eyes her curiously, gaze flickering toward the white-haired girl quizzically. 

“this is nice,” kamui shrugs simply. “the scent. the serenity. there’s really no equivalent in nohr.” 

burgundy eyes grow soft, a small smile of her own curling up on hinoka’s lips. the older girl isn’t at a lack for stoicism, but kamui is sure that her smiles are some of the warmest she has ever seen, sparking a pleasant flame in her chest and nurturing a grin across her own lips, no matter how tired they may be. there is an inexplicable comfort in the girl’s smiles, the soft light that shines in her burgundy irises; kamui has been told that ryouma and hinoka had known her as children, before she was whisked away to nohr, and she never could have believed it if not for hinoka’s achingly familiar smiles, the firm set of her stance as she holds the ground before her siblings at the risk of her own life, for ryouma’s unchanging resoluteness, the unshakable glint in his chestnut eyes as he selflessly takes a strike for his siblings and his soldiers alike. there is strangeness in the short cut of hinoka’s scarlet hair, in the etched set of ryouma’s strong jaw, but there is a familiarity in their person that she feels down to her very bones. 

“it is quite calming,” ryouma agrees. kamui’s eyes flit over to his, watching as he picks up his cup of tea, taking in the scent and bringing the drink to his lips serenely. he sets the cup down with a gentle _clunk_ and passes one of the others to kamui, setting it before her with steam still dancing up from its liquidy depths. crimson eyes watch as hinoka takes a small sip of her own tea, burgundy eyes meeting hers for the fleetest of seconds. 

“you don’t have to drink it now if it looks too hot,” the older girl offers, and kamui smiles sheepishly, curling hesitant fingers around the smooth surface of her cup. she brings it up to her lips and breathes it in first, eyes fluttering shut as she basks in the scent of tea and tranquility that flood her head. there’s no helping the contented smile that blossoms across her lips, the warmth that effuses from the cup into her fingertips and all the way to the tips of her toes. 

“it smells amazing, at the very least,” she sighs. 

“as a baby, the scent of this same tea would be one of the only things that always calmed you when you cried,” ryouma says over the rim of his cup. the earthenware covers his lips, but kamui can see the hints of a smile in his eyes, the way they crease jovially at the corners. “jasmine was always your favorite, but when you were a little older, you’d always ask for chrysanthemum just so you could watch the dried flowers bloom as they steeped.” 

“you never managed to pronounce chrysanthemum correctly, though,” hinoka adds with a small snicker. kamui’s cheeks flush despite herself, but she forces her embarrassment away, meets burgundy eyes earnestly. 

“can you… tell me more about myself?” she asks softly. “back then, before everything, when we were all still children.” 

“of course,” the older girl responds, taking a final sip from her cup before setting it down. peering at her own drink, kamui brings it gingerly to her lips and takes a small sip. she blinks at the taste, the way it rolls warm and strong down her throat. ryouma watches her quizzically. 

“do you not like it?” he asks uncertainly. kamui shakes her head furiously. 

“no, it’s not that, nii-san,” she insists. “it’s just more bitter than i expected.” 

“i had a feeling you’d say that,” hinoka notes casually. she slides one of the plates on the table closer to her, and kamui eyes it curiously, taking in the colorful little confection that sits atop it. each is shaped like a small lump, resting on a decorative paper and dusted with flour. “here,” the girl offers. “you always were a sweet tooth, even as a baby.” 

carefully, kamui picks up one of the cakes. the material is dense and squishy between her fingers, smearing fine flour across the surface of her hands. 

“what are these, nee-san?” 

“ah, they’re mochi,” she explains simply. “the soft part on the outside is a sticky rice cake, and the one you’re holding has a sweet red bean filling inside. you loved them so much that you asked mikoto-sama to teach you how to make them, actually,” she laughs. 

“once you found out how arduous it was, though, you decided you liked eating them better,” ryouma adds in, and hinoka giggles lightly at the memory. a soft laugh bubbles past kamui’s lips, too, and she takes an eager bite of her sweet, humming pleasantly at the sweet taste that fills her mouth. she polishes the rest of it off quickly, and with a pleased smile, takes another sip of her tea. it’s still bitter on her tongue, but the aftertaste of sweet red bean on her tongue makes it all the better. 

“i think i remember these,” she says, setting her cup down softly. “that black one has sesame seed paste in it, and the tan ones here are filled with a peanut paste. i like the white ones best, with the red bean filling.” 

ryouma chuckles. “it’s not surprising that you would still remember that, imouto,” he teases, and kamui shrugs sheepishly in response. “you can have the last red bean one,” he tells her warmly. “i like the sesame ones, anyway, and hinoka—” 

“doesn’t like sweets,” kamui finishes with a proud smile, eyes creasing from the force of her smile. “i remember that, vaguely, and how she’d pretend to when i asked for her desserts so i wouldn’t end up with a stomach ache from too much sugar.” 

“a lot of good that did,” hinoka continues coyly. “you would take them when my back was turned and end up sick anyway,” she repartees, bringing an airy laugh to all their lips. “ryouma-nii and i would take turns carrying your room when that happened, and the other would brew a warm pot of herbal tea to help you get over it.” 

“yeah,” kamui sighs wistfully, taking another sip of her tea. “i don’t remember getting sick too much, but it must have happened often, because i remember the scent of ginger tea and how it always made me feel nice and warm.” 

“you did get sick quite often, actually. even as a child, you didn’t like wearing shoes, and every winter you would get cold feet and a flu at least once without fail. hinoka would have to sew your winter shoes onto your pants every time after that, just to make sure you wouldn’t get sick again.” 

“and you’d cry about it for the next few days, locking yourself in your room and refusing to wear them,” hinoka snickers. “once, you even burst out of your room and stood in the snow with just your jackets and underclothes just to try and prove a point. you got sick a second time after that.” 

kamui blushes a brilliant red as ryouma and hinoka chuckle fondly at the memory, grimacing slightly. 

“n-not fair,” she grounds out, “i don’t remember that!” 

“ah, that’s a shame, isn’t it?” ryouma teases, and kamui pouts petulantly, turning her nose up at him huffily. she picks up her teacup again and tips it against her lips, only to blink in confusion to find it empty. chestnut eyes meet hers warmly, and he brings the teapot back up to the table, a small smile twitching up on his lips. 

“more tea comes with more stories,” he tells her. kamui purses her lips, trying to bite back a similar smile, but it doesn’t work for long. a soft giggle escapes her lips, pulling them up at the edges, and she pushes her empty tea cup back toward the man, rolling her eyes fondly. 

“i suppose i have no choice then,” she says. “another cup please, nii-san.” 

ryouma’s smile grows. “hinoka, why don’t you tell imouto about the time she ate sakura petals?” he asks as he lifts the earthen pot up, and he gracefully pours kamui another cup. steam erupts from the liquid as soon as its settles once more, and kamui watches it with a renewed sense of awe. 

hinoka’s burgundy eyes light up at the memory, and she bursts animatedly into another tale as kamui wraps her slender fingers around her cup once more, soaking in the warmth that permeates her skin for all it is worth. she watches the lively spark in hinoka’s eyes, the warm aura of ryouma’s smile, and if she closes her eyes and breathes in the scent of jasmine tea, they are children once more, sharing tea and smiles like nothing has changed at all. 

* * *

under the unrelenting summer sun, kamui feels sweat drip down her brow, feels acutely as the blazing rays paint her skin golden, washing away every last remnant of porcelain pale that used to infuse it. it's not an unsightly look for her, she thinks, washing her face and looking into her mirror every morning. where, in her armor, she used to be painted in simple ebonies and alabasters — a monochrome princess with a mono-home heart — kamui can see nohr winter in the winter-white cascade of her hair, can see hoshido summer in the warm summer tan of her skin. there is no brutal reminder staring back at her in that reflection, whispering of a mismatched princess in a mismatched land; there is only nohr, hoshido, and familiar crimson eyes, the ones that she has let differentiate her, embody her, define her. there is as much of hoshido in her as there is nohr, and never as much of both as there is of _her_. 

the sweat drips from her brow and down her cheek, collecting along the line of her jaw and ending at her chin. she ignores it, inhaling deeply and staring down the thin shaft of her arrow toward the target across the field. the tip of the arrow hovers unsteadily over the target’s center no matter how hard she concentrates on keeping herself still, and just as she thinks her sights are aligned, there is breathy air against the shell of her ear, the brief scoff of, “you’re doing it wrong.” 

kamui releases the arrow with a badly stifled yelp, and the arrow flies like a dive bombing bird, flailing messily along its haphazard path and embedding itself deep into the dirt a good ten paces from the target. takumi lets out a badly stifled laugh; his breath is startling and hot against her ear, instilling electric tingles into the nerves just under her skin. she shakes the thought away, turns to face him with a frown on her face. 

“i knew what i was doing before you interrupted me,” she accuses, narrowing her crimson eyes. takumi gazes levelly back, a small smirk on his lips and an amused glint in his hazel eyes. they are almost golden in the blazing summer sun, set alight by the brilliant rays that cascade down from a cloudless sky, and kamui takes in the sight carefully; the grey-haired boy doesn’t smile like this often enough, doesn’t let warmth coat the expanse his golden irises like sun does her skin, making her feel hot both inside and out. 

“of course you did,” he says noncommittally, and kamui pouts at him, swipes sweat off her brow with an air of finality. she is aware of the sharp eyes that watch the movement: the flick of her fingers, the sway of her sticky bangs. she trusts takumi’s eyes above many others, acute and unfaltering as they are, but under his scrutinizing gaze, she feels self consciousness spark in her blood like a flame, heating her cheeks and jolting her pulse into a quick staccato. kamui tightens her hand around the bow’s grip. “who even taught you how to shoot?” he asks, eyeing her white-knuckled grip apprehensively. 

“i did,” she responds curtly. “i watched and taught myself.” 

takumi snorts, laughs quickly and softly as if her words explained everything. “okay,” he shrugs simply. “show me.” 

kamui blinks. snide repartees die in her throat; any comebacks she had for his supposed quips on her skills evanesce like steam off ice on a hot summer day. he catches her wholly off guard for the second time in the span of minutes, and crimson eyes stare at him blankly before he arches a thin eyebrow at her, and she blinks, shaking away her dumbfoundedness and the afterimage of hazel-gold eyes. with a prim sniff, she turns back to the target before her, taking a slow, steadying breath and carefully notching an arrow on the bow’s string. pulling the string back until the brittle feathers on the arrow brush the corner of her lips, she takes a moment to aim, gritting her teeth past the heavy strain of the bow's weight on her arms. when she lines the tip of her arrow up with the target’s center, she exhales calmly, releases the string and watches the arrow soar forward. a whizz and a dull thunk, and the arrow finds itself embedded in the outermost ring of the circular target circle. kamui grimaces. 

she turns back to the grey haired boy with a plea for a second chance on her tongue, but he cuts her off, sharp hazel eyes glued to her target as he does so. 

“again,” he tells her firmly, and she stands there dumbly for a second before his hazel eyes fly back to her, startlingly sharp. there is a hard-set intensity in them, and it makes her feel suddenly breathless. she swallows thickly and sets her feet firmly in the soft summer earth, notching another arrow. repeating the same motions, kamui draws the fletches back to the corner of her mouth, preparing to loose another shot. just as she draws in another breath, takumi steps in, feather-light fingers against her hands and a warm chest against her back. with a startled gasp, she accidentally releases the arrow and it flies haphazardly, arcing far past the target and into the soil half a field away. kamui rears on him. 

“th-that was your fault!” she accuses, narrowing her crimson eyes at him. he doesn't meet her eyes, staring instead at the target. 

"one more time," he says, and kamui takes a good few moments to glare at his averted eyes before she clucks her tongue and grabs another arrow, nocking it once again. inhaling steadily, she brings the bow up, preparing to pull the string back before takumi stops her, fire-hot fingers against her the backs of her hands. she tightens her hand around the grip, trying not to focus on his quiet breaths against the back of her neck. 

"loosen up," he mutters, tapping the back of her white knuckles. kamui releases her iron grip, feels the smooth wood shift against her palm, and stares at his fingers and hers as takumi pries her fingers loose one by one, repositioning them so the pads of her fingers press against the front of the grip rather than encircle the entire thing. she squirms uncomfortably in the new position, but he wraps his hand over her own, quashing her restlessness and instilling a completely separate one in the pit of her stomach. she exhales slowly. 

"now draw," he orders her, breath rustling the hair over her ear. she grits her teeth but does as he says, pulling the string back until the fletches of the arrow just brush against the corner of her mouth. his other hand finds hers easily, sliding her fingers a little further up the string, until the side of them just barely hovers beneath the arrow's nocking point. with the hand on the bow, he adjusts the weapon's angle, pressing himself closer to her back as he aims. kamui stiffens at the sudden contact, and she feels his huff more than she hears it, stiflingly warm breath over the shell of her ear. "stop being so stiff," he murmurs petulantly, and she can't help but snap back. 

"stop trying to shoot for me," she bites, stomping a heel down on his toe. he starts at that, sucking in a sharp breath and inhaling a strand of her hair in the process. the boy quickly bursts into a coughing fit, butting kamui in the back of her head with his own, and she panickedly looses the arrow again, tumbling forward in a mess of hair and limbs. she feels the sharp tug of takumi’s hand around hers before he tumbles down immediately after her, landing atop her and forcing the air out of her lungs. kamui coughs weakly, nose pressed against the ground and grass in her mouth. 

“oww,” takumi moans lamely. she groans similarly, and when the boy lifts himself up from the ground, kamui sucks in a relieved breath, grateful to have his weight off of her. blowing grass out of her mouth, she turns over, blinking crimson eyes blearily. when her vision fall back into focus, hazel eyes are directly above her, staring blankly down at her face. his hands are planted in the dirt on either side of her, and his hair tumbles over his shoulder, brushes against the bare skin of her neck with tantalizing lightness. kamui sucks in a sharp breath. when takumi breathes out, she can feel the shaky tremor of his breath as acutely as she feels the heat of it, plain against her already sun-warmed cheeks. 

“t-takumi,” she begins softly, hating the breathiness that stains her words, makes her head feel light. this close up, she can count his individual eyelashes, see her own reflection in the golden hazel of his eyes. it’s hard to discern in that small reflection, but kamui is sure of the roseate flush that paints itself across her cheeks, a result of sharp eyes and the scent of bow polish and pine more than any blazing summer sunshine. swallowing thickly, she breathes shallowly, shakily through parted lips. 

takumi blinks dizzily at her, mutters a distracted, “huh?” 

she tries to stare only at his eyes, to ignore the regal line of his jaw, the telltale sunburn-pink that tints his cheeks and leads down to the curve of his lips. it’s hard — so, so hard — when she can trace the path that hazel eyes follow, the distant, bleary gaze of them that leads down from her own eyes, staring absently at her mouth. her heartbeat spikes at the realization, chest aching at the sudden rush of blood and adrenaline. the movement is absent minded at first, the way her eyes fall half-lidded and she leans in closer, until their noses barely touch. then, he closes his eyes, leaning forward until their lips brush, and the movement becomes entirely conscious; she shuts her eyes and connects their mouths like lightning does to the ground. it’s electrifying, exhilarating, and perfect, and kamui throws her arms around his neck, drags him back down on top of her. 

the way he threads slender fingers through her hair, presses fire-hot palms against her skin, is electric, instilling cathartic tingles into the live ends of her nerves, making her feel as much in heaven as she feels painfully alive. he sighs into her mouth, and this is what it must feel like, she thinks, to have life breathed into her hollow skin and bones; it feels so right. 

when takumi pulls away, it is with heavy, panting gasps, hot against her burning cheeks, and hazy eyes, blurred over with an enthralling lust. he blinks it away soon after, and kamui keeps her arms wrapped around him, panting past a wide smile on her sun-stained face. 

“you taste like hoshido,” she whispers warmly, eyes creasing from the force of her smile. takumi stares at her for a moment — awed, reverent eyes — before he blinks, lets a crooked smile blossom on his own lips. the sight of it makes her heart swell. 

“so do you,” he breathes. “hoshido and something else… something sweet. warm, i think.” 

“oh yeah?” she asks, bringing their mouths just close enough to brush. 

“yeah,” he agrees, letting his eyes fall half lidded and resting firm hands on her hips. “hoshido, and maybe… _nohr_.” he says it softly, whispers it against the curve of her lips, and it makes her breath hitch, her pulse skip a beat. with a giddy, airy laugh, kamui beams at him, and before he can even smile back, she captures his lips with hers, drowning in the feeling of bubbling elation that sprints through her veins. the soft chuckle that he makes rumbles wonderfully between their mouths, and she doesn’t need her eyes to tell her that he returns her grin in the subtle curve of a smile against her lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment for the road? I'd love to hear any ending thoughts!


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